


The Legend of the Princess

by rynling



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Danger and Intrigue, Eventual Smut, F/M, Illustrated, Link/Ganondorf One-Sided Attraction, Nabooru/Impa Flirtation, Reincarnated Enemies to Lovers, Shadows of History, Slow Burn, Visions of Past Lives, Worldbuilding, Zelda & Impa Friendship, Zelda & Link Friendship, Zelda & Ruto Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disturbed by strange dreams during the weeks leading to her coronation, Zelda uncovers the fabled Ocarina of Time. As the princess uses the magical instrument to glimpse into the past, she begins to learn about the sinister man who has been blown by the harsh winds of the desert into her castle. If she is wise enough to piece together the puzzles left behind in bygone ages, Zelda may be able to change both of their destinies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Man with Golden Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Cover illustration by the fabulously talented [lightsintheskye](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This story is partially based on [an idea](http://pocketseizure.tumblr.com/post/142087911289) I had for a game in which Zelda gets to be the hero.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda experiences dark dreams and encounters a shadowed man.

Zelda woke to the clear and radiant light of dawn as she struggled to free herself from the clutches of a dark nightmare. Her heart beat in her throat, and her skin was as cold as ice. Something monstrous had been reaching for her, and she had almost been caught.

As she waited for her breaths to slow, Zelda stared at the embroidery on the canopy above her bed. The twirling lines of silver thread depicted the familiar motif of the winged sky goddess Hylia, the protector of the royal family and, if the legends could be believed, Zelda's own ancestor.

 _May the Goddess grant me wisdom_ , Zelda recited in her mind. She had been taught to speak these words to herself when she was agitated. Above all things, a princess must be calm and composed, graceful and gracious.

Zelda kicked the quilt away. With her twentieth birthday soon approaching, she was expected to attend every meeting of her father's council and court, and today she would need to prepare for both. It made no sense for her to lie in bed and wait for her maids. She had appeals to consider and correspondence to complete, and she may as well get started early.

After washing her face in the small bathroom adjoining her private chamber, Zelda sat in front of her mirror and began to wind her hair into the braids that would support her cornet. The headpiece was small and unadorned, but after a full day of attending to the cares of her kingdom she would feel its weight, and if she did not twist her hair tightly it would come askew.

Zelda set the cornet into her braids, its silver reflecting a pale light she hoped would hide the dark shadows under her eyes. Her coronation ceremony was scheduled to be held in a few short weeks. It would then be announced that she would take her place on Hyrule's throne as the equal of her father Daphnes, who had married into the royal family when her mother was scarcely older than she was now. It had been her mother who had named her Zelda, supposedly after the princess in the old legends.

 _How happy I would be if I were a princess in a fairy tale_ , Zelda thought, allowing herself a moment to indulge in a fantasy of leaving the castle on her horse, a sword at her waist and her hair streaming behind her. She bit her lip to stifle a grin as she loosened two strands of hair at her temples, giving herself long sidelocks. The golden strands softened the lines of her cheeks and chin, but her mouth pulled into a frown. Her reflection had triggered a faint memory, something in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite recall.

Zelda shook her head and stood. She stepped into the split skirt that had been laid out for her and tightened its sash around her waist. She then slipped a thin chemise over her head before pulling on a long satin tunic. After latching a heavy necklace around her collarbones, she affixed a short gauze mantle to its joints, allowing it to drape over her shoulders like a cape. Zelda found the outfit ostentatious and uncomfortable, but at least it was preferable to the gown she would wear at the evening court. She glanced at the elbow-length gloves that remained on her dressing table before reaching instead for a stoppered inkwell, which she carefully placed into a leather satchel that was already heavy with paper. The light in her room was growing stronger, and she was anxious to be off before her maids entered and waylaid her with their elaborate rituals of plucking and polishing and coloring and concealing.

Instead of exiting into the hallway, Zelda pushed aside a tapestry hanging in the antechamber of her quarters. She ran her hand along the stone wall underneath it, pressing her palm against the pressure points that revealed the hinges of a secret door, which opened with a barely perceptible click.

Zelda let the fabric of the tapestry fall behind her as she stepped into the dark passage. She knew its twists and turns by heart, and she did not hesitate as she made her way down a set of stairs whose edges had been worn smooth with use. Running her fingers along the wall as she walked, she descended to the second floor of the castle and emerged from behind a life-sized portrait of one of Hyrule's past queens, a woman with rich dark hair and stern face.

She smoothed her tunic and shook the hem of her skirt before turning the corner into the corridor that ran in front of the library. The ancient room was one of her favorite places in the castle, and the mornings when she could begin her day there were precious to her.

When she stepped into the hallway, Zelda's breath caught in her throat. As she watched a dark shadow emerge from the library, she was suddenly struck with the full force of the horror that had visited her during the night. For one terrible moment, she was back in her nightmare, running as fast as she could from a tidal wave of pure black oil. There was a creature rising from the torrent, an enormous monster with burning eyes that threatened to spark the viscous liquid into an inferno.

Zelda blinked and returned to reality. Her vision cleared, and she realized that she recognized the figure standing in the hallway in front of her – it was Ganondorf, an emissary from the tribe that clung to the edges of the vast western desert. He had apparently noticed her as well, for he stood silently in one of the bays between the windows overlooking the castle gardens. He did not move as his gaze met her own, and his eyes were as golden as the sunlight that fell to the floor at his feet.

 _Bow_ , she wanted to say to him. _Bow before Hyrule's princess._

Even as the compulsion wrapped itself around her mind like fingers grasping the hilt of a sword, Zelda was shocked by her own audacity. She had never thought of herself as superior to any of the rulers of the outlying tribes, and she tried to be courteous even to her own servants, yet there was something in the man's countenance that made her want to strike him. He looked at her not with defiance, exactly, but with a certain wariness.

Zelda refused to drop her eyes, careful to keep her breathing steady and her face relaxed. Although she felt strangely vulnerable, it would not do to demonstrate anything other than calm equanimity.

Ganondorf regarded her approach with a blank expression. When she was a few steps away, he nodded to her in greeting. "Your Highness," he said, a ghost of an accent haunting his voice.

"Lord Dragmire," she responded, and in the space between syllables she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. She recognized her own self-control in the set of his jaw and realized that her presence made him uncomfortable. _Good_ , she thought, surprised by the vehemence of her pleasure.

"I did not expect to find you at the library this early in the morning," she said politely.

And indeed she had not. She had never caught a glimpse of him in broad daylight and had assumed he preferred to keep late hours. Although Ganondorf had ostensibly come to Hyrule Castle to represent the Gerudo people at her coronation, he seemed to dislike the evening courts as much as she did, and she had yet to exchange more than a few words with him.

"I was just leaving," he responded. "You will be pleased to know that you have the room all to yourself."

 _What a curious comment_ , Zelda mused, deigning not to answer him. She did feel more comfortable with solitude, but how could this man possibly have known that?

Although he was not much older than her, the light flooding through the windows revealed the harsh contours of his face and the fine lines spreading from his eyes as he looked down at her. He was immoderately tall, and his loose robe and trousers could not disguise the bulk of his body. His auburn hair was swept back from his forehead but flared out behind him into an unruly mess. He looked entirely out of place amidst the delicate furnishings and well-ordered symmetry of the castle corridor.

"If you will excuse me," he said brusquely, breaking the silence when it became clear that Zelda would not speak. He turned and paced off in the opposite direction. Zelda was not accustomed to being shown anyone's back, and the bitter sting of Ganondorf's rudeness infuriated her.

 _May the Goddess grant me wisdom_ , Zelda thought, sighing to herself.

And yet it was not wisdom the princess desired, but power. She wanted to rule Hyrule on her own terms, unhindered by the silk ropes of tradition that tied her to her role. When she ascended the throne, these bonds would only tighten around her throat. As she pushed the door to the library open, Zelda couldn't help but wonder if any of the queens who had come before her had ever found a way to cut themselves free of the threads of their fate.


	2. The Ocarina of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda ponders Ganondorf's curious interest in legends.

The air in the library was quiet and still. The light that made its way through the mullioned windows was pale yet bright, and the room was fragrant with the scent of leather and old paper.

Many of the books owned by the castle were old and almost incomprehensible, but Zelda had not come to read. She shrugged her satchel onto one of the austere wooden chairs positioned beside a large oak table. As she set down her pen and inkwell, Zelda noticed a few streaks in the thin layer of dust coating the table's surface. She placed the tips of her fingers onto the tracks and frowned. The marks had been left by hands much larger than hers.

Zelda had kept her eye on Ganondorf since he arrived at Hyrule Castle. There was something about him that triggered her suspicion. When his arrival at court was formally announced to her and her father, he was cordial yet distant, and he spoke the ritual phrases of loyalty to the throne in a tone devoid of warmth or feeling. Zelda had scarcely seen him eat or drink at the gatherings that had become more frequent in the weeks leading to her coronation, and he rarely conversed with anyone. Although she had little patience for such assemblies and often excused herself early, Ganondorf's attendance was clearly perfunctory. He usually limited his presence to an hour or two at most and spoke only when spoken to. He had come to the castle without a retinue; and, even more curiously, Zelda had witnessed him slipping away into Castle Town through the servants' entrances. Whatever purpose the man had in coming to Hyrule, it had little to do with finding favor in the eyes of the royal family.

Zelda let her eyes drop down to the threadbare carpet covering the floor. In the clear morning light, the scuff of footprints was faintly discernible. Zelda stood silently for several moments, listening for the presence of another person. She did not want anyone to witness her tracing Ganondorf's steps, least of all Ganondorf himself, should he return.

After confirming that she was in no danger of being interrupted, Zelda followed the tracks into the interior of the room. The light was dimmer between the towering shelves, but she was still able to locate the area of Ganondorf's interest by the disturbance of volumes on a bookcase that seemed less neglected than its neighbors.

Zelda scanned the titles on the shelves, but she was already familiar with their contents. She had often made her way to this exact location as a child. The books in front of her did not contain history or philosophy or dissertations on agricultural imports but were instead repositories of fairy tales and legends.

 _What could Ganondorf possibly be looking for_ , Zelda wondered. A memory floated to the surface of her mind, and she reached for it as if it were the string of a bright balloon.

In truth, although they had hardly exchanged more than a few dozen words since he had arrived, she and Ganondorf were not strangers to each other. They had played together as children when he had come to Hyrule with his mother, who had been the queen of the Gerudo tribe. As a boy he had been quiet and soft-spoken yet eager to master the Hylian language. Zelda suddenly recalled having lent him a book that she used to thumb through repeatedly when she was learning to read. She slowly ran her fingers across a row of book spines until the upturned edge of a slight volume caught her attention. _Ah, this is it_ , she thought.

As she pulled the book down from the shelf, Zelda experienced an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She had once considered Ganondorf to be a friend, yet now he avoided her. Minutes ago, in the outside corridor, his regard of her had been as cold as the night wind. She felt a small stab of guilt for distrusting him, but something was clearly amiss in his behavior.

Zelda opened the book, a small codex whose linen cover still retained a bit of warmth from the sun shining onto the table where Ganondorf must have sat. The text was illuminated with hand-drawn illustrations depicting the exploits of the heroes and princesses of Hyrule as they fought all manner of dire villains and vile curses. Zelda couldn't help but smile as she flipped through the pages, recalling lazy afternoons spent reading on the padded ledge underneath a large window in her solar. Years ago, when she still wore her hair loose and unbound, such moments had not been so rare, and it had seemed as if she had all the time in the world.

A small scrap of paper dislodged itself from between the pages and drifted to the floor. Zelda marked its place in the book as she knelt to retrieve it. The blocky letters of the Gerudo script were printed in faded ink on one side of the thick mulberry paper. The words were disjointed and seemed as if they had come from a passage that had been torn away from its source. Zelda flipped the scrap over and saw the distinctive flowing waves of Gerudo cursive written in pencil lead. Although she could not read the words, the writing was beautiful, and she marveled that Ganondorf was capable of such fine and delicate handwriting.

Zelda tucked the paper into a hidden pocket of her tunic and turned her attention back to the book, folding her skirt under her as she sat on the floor between shelves. On the lower edge of the page she had marked was a fingerprint left behind in grainy lead. Higher on the page was a drawing of a large ocarina rendered in blue ink of a striking hue that must have once been exorbitantly expensive. Zelda read the text underneath the illustration.

_and so the princess gave him one of the royal family's greatest treasures, the Ocarina of Time. This mysterious instrument, cast from a single block of ancient timeshift stone, possessed the magical ability to manipulate the flow of time. When the cerulean body of the instrument resonated with the perfect melody, the musician whose breath filled it could shape time like a potter shapes clay upon her wheel. It is said that certain notes played on the ocarina form the key to opening the door of the Sacred Realm where the Golden Power resides, radiating its divine energy into the blessed land of Hyrule. The young hero, taking the ocarina,_

Zelda shut the book. The legend was completely fanciful. The "Golden Power" mentioned in the text referred to the Triforce, the emblem of her family. It was not "divine" but merely a symbol representing the balance between the three virtues valued by the monarchs of Hyrule: a powerful will, the foresight of wisdom, and the courage to overcome adversity. Any child playing in the streets of Castle Town would know of the Sacred Realm, but it was merely that – a story for children, something for would-be heroes to quest after.

The so-called "Ocarina of Time" was an interesting addition to the legend, however. Zelda had loved this particular story as a child because her mother had owned an ocarina almost identical to the one described in the book. Although she was skilled at many instruments, she seemed to favor the ocarina, playing it for Zelda when they were alone together in the castle gardens. The old-fashioned flute seemed such an integral part of her mother that Zelda had never asked to play it herself. As a girl she had assumed that her mother's grace and charm were natural accessories to her role as queen, a position that felt impossibly far away to her.

Zelda's mother had died while on a diplomatic mission to the Gerudo Desert, and Zelda had been in such a haze of grief at the time that she had no memory of what had happened to the ocarina. She supposed she would have to ask her father. Her earliest opportunity to speak to him would be during the evening court. She knew she would have to wait until the crowd of retainers around him thinned, and she wasn't looking forward to the long night stretching ahead of her.

Zelda stood and replaced the book of legends on the shelf, careful to position its edge sticking out as Ganondorf as left it. After clapping the dust from her hands, she returned to the table by the window and sat down. She removed the stack of correspondence from her satchel and placed it beside a sheaf of blank paper. As she wet her quill, Zelda allowed her mind to return to the problem of Ganondorf. What could he have been searching for? Now that she thought about it, his mother must have died at around the same time as hers. When he first came to Hyrule Castle, he had been eager to talk with her, but after their mutual loss she had barely heard anything about him – or any of the other Gerudo, for that matter. What, exactly, had happened? Had the king avoided mentioning the diplomatic chill between the two kingdoms simply out of respect for her grief? Now that she thought about it, it was all very strange. Zelda had never considered that there might be more than a formal political connection between her mother and the Gerudo queen, but now she found that she had any number of questions about their relationship.

The tip of Zelda's quill remained suspended over the inkwell as she gazed out the window and into the garden. She would need to start writing soon, but she could not deny that she found mystery far more interesting than bureaucracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter illustration by [Lightsintheskye on Tumblr](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/), whose art puts Zelda's meticulous attention to detail to shame. 


	3. Her Mother's Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda has a strange conversation with Ganondorf and is entrusted with the late queen's ocarina.

The golden light of the gaslamps cast a pleasant twilight over the great hall of Hyrule Castle. The pale lavender fabric of Zelda's gown shimmered as she made her way across the room and to a quiet space behind one of the thick marble columns rising from the tiled floor. The buzz of conversation surrounded her, echoing across the stone masonry and rising into the vaulted ceiling.

Zelda had ordered the valet assigned to her for the evening to fill her crystal glass only with sparkling water. She disliked its flat metallic taste, but the bubbles in the liquid discouraged people from asking why she wasn't drinking. Although the clerestory windows had been opened, the air inside the hall was stuffy, and she took a long sip as she scanned the crowd.

The evening's court had been called to receive a group of Zora dignitaries, but the Zora princess Ruto had not been among them. She had written to Zelda, promising to come, and Zelda wondered what could have held her. Unlike Zelda's father, the Zora king was largely a figurehead. The queen managed the business of state, and Ruto had worked alongside her mother from an early age. If the princess had not made the journey to Hyrule, it could only mean an emergency had arisen that the queen could not handle herself. Zelda made a mental note to dispatch a short note to Ruto before she retired.

Court was a ritual from a bygone era when the royal family's retainers were fewer in number and, as the leaders of their own small armies, potentially dangerous. By calling a court, the monarch summoned his or her vassals to the throne, forcing them to abandon their own affairs and provide for the expense of travel. Hyrule had been at peace for more than a hundred years, however, and such a show of dominance was unnecessary. Many of the nobles had long ago left their territorial holdings and now occupied residences in Castle Town. The Hylian monarchs were now supported by a web of bureaucrats, and Zelda's father Daphnes frequently left the castle to visit the leaders of the outlying tribes. Although attendance at court was still a matter of demonstrating allegiance, the events had become largely social in nature.

Zelda heard her father's laugh boom out from across the room. He enjoyed his place at the center of the court and used the festive atmosphere skillfully, casually laying the foundations of agreements and picking up gossip that might prove useful. Zelda enjoyed hearing the tales Daphnes told of these political games, but she had grown discontent with her own role. She was uncomfortably aware of her presentation as a potential marriage partner, and she knew that, once she had been crowned as queen, she would begin to receive proposals. Hyrule was wealthy and prosperous, and there was be no need for her to accept any offer that was less than ideal. Zelda still found the notion of a royal wedding exhausting. She already had enough to worry about.

"Good evening, Princess."

Zelda froze. She hadn't heard Ganondorf approach, and she wondered where he possibly could have come from. Had he been lurking here to intercept her? She exhaled and turned to face him.

"Lord Ganondorf," she smiled. "What a pleasant surprise. I trust this evening finds you well?"

"Quite well, Your Highness. The king's hospitality is without peer."

His tone held a sardonic note that Zelda found troubling. She decided to ignore it. "Thank you for your kind words," she said, shooting her eyes to the side as she cast out for an opportunity to escape the encounter. She had let her guard down, and he had caught her at a moment when she was not prepared to engage with him. If all else failed, she would simply excuse herself. It would be rude to snub an emissary, but Zelda was well aware that civilized conversations do not play out in shadows.

"I just returned from a walk through the castle gardens," Ganondorf continued, his eyes fixed on Zelda's face. "My feet led me to the enclave in front of the library. I found the flowers there to be quite _interesting_." His voice was quiet, yet his words cut through the surrounding murmur of conversation like a knife through butter.

Zelda glanced at Ganondorf sharply. His golden eyes seemed to shine in the glow of the gaslamps, and a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. Zelda had been keen to dismiss him, but for the first time she noticed the luster of the gems on his ears and the fineness of the patterned embroidery lining the edges of his robe. Zelda noted the quality of the fabric and the cut of the tailoring, reminding herself that this man was, in the estimation of his tribe, a prince.

"I especially liked the white lilies, the ones with the faint blue rims. I wonder what they're called in Hylian...?"

 _He knows_ , Zelda thought, and then just as quickly brushed the thought away. It was impossible that anyone outside the royal family would be aware of the purpose of certain plants in the castle gardens.

"We call that varietal the 'silent princess.' It was a favorite of my mother," Zelda responded.

Ganondorf nodded. "I see, the silent princess. Quite a legendary flower. How odd that your mother appreciated them. I remember her being rather outspoken and having little use for such subtlety. Is the silent princess a favorite of yours as well?"

Zelda was taken aback. "I don't – "

"Zelda!" Her father's voice rang out as he called for her from several feet away. He had apparently come to find her, and she thanked him silently. "There's a young man over here I'd like you to meet. What are you doing, skulking around in corners?"

Zelda offered Ganondorf what she hoped appeared to be an apologetic nod. "If you will pardon me."

He gave a slight bow in return, the same thin smile still on his face.

▲     ▲     ▲

"It should be in here somewhere," Daphnes muttered, rummaging around in a chest concealed behind an overstuffed sofa in the reading room of his private chambers. Zelda's father's rooms were as messy as hers were neat, with books and unbound documents piled on almost every surface. Zelda suspected he nurtured this chaos in order to maintain some semblance of privacy. Presumably, if not even his most intimate servants could find something, then no one else would have the slightest clue concerning where to look. Everyone had secrets to keep, and Zelda knew it was not her place to judge the measure or method.

Earlier that evening, she had taken advantage of a lull in conversation to ask her father about her mother's ocarina. He had given her a strange look and glossed over the matter, but scarcely an hour later he had announced that he would be retiring from court, and he had insisted that Zelda join the recession. Once they arrived at his quarters he dismissed the train of courtiers that accompanied them. He asked Zelda to sit while he poured them both a glass of brandy from a bottle he located effortlessly from the clutter on top of a table beside the fireplace.

Handing Zelda's glass to her, he asked, "So what's this about your mother's ocarina?"

Zelda took a sip of the amber liquid and let its warmth spread through her. She couldn't imagine where her father's question was leading, so she decided to answer him honestly, if perhaps not with the full truth.

"I remembered it as I was reading in the library this morning. An old book mentioned a legendary flute, and I recalled that mother used to have one just like it."

"Do you believe in the legend?" Zelda's father asked her. His back was turned, and she couldn't see his face.

"I suppose not, but..." Zelda responded, her words trailing off into an invitation for him to explain himself.

"Good," Daphnes said before downing his glass. "It's not healthy to dwell in the past, and this kingdom is already lousy with tradition. Still," he continued, sighing, "you have so few keepsakes from your mother. If you'd like the ocarina, it's yours."

He had then paced off to his reading room, gesturing for Zelda to follow him. She set her unfinished glass of brandy down on a side table, knowing that it would be cleared away later. For all the scattered mess in the king's chambers, there was not a single mote of dust.

Daphnes made a direct line for the half-hidden chest, which he unlocked with a small silver key that Zelda watched him withdraw from an inner pocket of his overcoat. Kneeling beside the chest, he lifted the lid and proceeded to shift through its contents. Zelda heard the dry whisper of paper and the soft rustle of fabric, and she wondered what her father was keeping tucked away.

"Ah! I knew it was here," he muttered, softly clicking the lid of the chest shut before rising to his feet. In his hand was none other than her mother's ocarina. In the low light of the candelabra illuminating the room, it seemed to be an unearthly shade of blue, and the tarnished band of gold circling its mouthpiece shone with a dull glow.

Daphnes extended his hand, and Zelda stepped forward to take the ocarina. It was warm against her skin and as light as air. She fit the pads of her fingers to its holes and considered blowing a few notes, but then she caught the pained expression on her father's face.

"I miss her," he said simply.

Still clutching the ocarina, Zelda embraced him. "I do too," she responded, although her true feelings were more complicated. She had few clear memories of her mother, and she had not allowed herself to indulge herself in fantasies of what their relationship would be like if she were still alive. As a symbol, the late queen retained her strength of presence, but Zelda knew almost nothing of who she had been as a person.

Daphnes held his daughter for a moment, patting her back before releasing her. "You take after her, you know," he said. "Everyone is expecting great things from you."

Zelda laughed. "I'll do my best," she said, infusing her voice with far more confidence than she felt.


	4. Secret Passages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda and Impa leave Hyrule Castle by surreptitious means.

"It seems the Zora's pet fish has come down with a cold," the silver-haired woman smirked, tapping her fingers against the ornamental writing desk. She sat on the delicate matching chair with her legs splayed out in front of her.

"Impa, please. This is no time for levity," Zelda responded as she paced the length of her study. The room was small and windowless, its walls paneled in dark wood.

"My apologies, Highness," Impa corrected herself, rolling her eyes. "They say their guardian deity has been cursed."

"It does sound outlandish," Zelda admitted.

"Definitely fishy business," Impa snorted.

Zelda grinned. "I'd certainly be interested to know what Ruto thinks. I suppose I'll have to wait for her to respond to my letter."

"You wrote to her?"

"Last night, after she didn't appear at court."

Impa raised an eyebrow. "It took you that long to realize she wasn't coming?"

"I was preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Humor me."

"Fine," Zelda shrugged. "A merchant in the east district has managed to buy a block of townhouses, which she wants to demolish so that she can build a manor. The only thing standing in her way is an old Goron who's been living there for decades and refuses to budge. Since she's been granted royal permission to establish an estate, the merchant would like there to be an eviction, which is, quite frankly, illegal."

"Who told this woman she could build a manor house right in the middle of town? I thought the privilege was reserved for the nobility."

"My father decreed that the code be lifted. He worries that the merchants will establish their own city if they're not allowed the full use of ours, and I believe he may be correct. Still, the code was put in place to prevent sudden changes to property values, and the Goron may not be the only person out of a home once construction begins."

"Sounds fascinating. Is that it?"

"I also oversaw the planning for flower arrangements for tomorrow's banquet."

"Don't you have someone else to do that for you?"

"I prefer to do it myself."

"Right. Well." Impa smirked and rose to her feet. "I suppose a princess of a certain age does need to display her feminine accomplishments. Shall we get going?"

Zelda nodded. She was grateful for an excuse to leave the castle, whose atmosphere had become oppressive after the previous evening's court.

Like Impa, Zelda was dressed in a close-fitting suit of dark indigo adorned with loose white linen gathered around her shoulders. Unlike Impa, her breasts and hair were bound, marking her as an acolyte. To a casual observer Zelda would appear as nothing more than Impa's apprentice. As such, she took the name Impaz when she assumed a Sheikah disguise.

The Sheikah were a small and secretive tribe concentrated in several small villages tucked away in the foothills of the eastern mountain range. Aside from their red eyes, they were indistinguishable from Hylians, but the Sheikah boasted a proud line of warriors, a select few of whom served the royal family. Impa had been formally appointed as Zelda's guardian at a young age, and they had known each other since they were children. When Zelda first attempted to sneak away from the castle, it had been the young Sheikah guard Impa she had turned to for guidance. Impa, who held little patience for royal protocol, had been happy to assist her. She kept the princess's secrets, from her short teenage romances to the intricate games she played against the noble daughters who slighted her at court.

Zelda's objective on this particular night was to solicit information from a tavern owner named Telma who was probably, save for the king himself, the most well informed person in Hyrule. In order to speak with Telma, Zelda would need to leave the castle; and, in order to leave the castle, she would need to ensure that her absence was not noted. She had retired early, complaining of a headache and giving strict orders to her attendants not to bother her for any reason.

Zelda followed Impa to the antechamber and through the hidden entrance into the narrow space between the castle walls. Impa was well acquainted with these corridors, and Zelda suspected that Impa knew passageways that even she was unaware of.

Almost ten years ago Zelda had discovered the secret door in her chambers one night after being dismissed from a dinner with her father and several of his advisors. The conversation between the adults had stretched on without end, and all Zelda wanted was to go outside before the sun set. Her father had gruffly responded to her visible agitation by ordering that she be confined to her quarters, where, partially out of a sense of defiance, she had attempted to climb one of the tapestries. The ream of fabric had fallen into a dusty pile with Zelda on top. As she examined the wall, trying to figure out how to fix the situation before she got into even more trouble, Zelda noticed an irregularity in the stones. As soon as she realized they were pressure points operating a rudimentary system of gears and pulleys, which she could hear whirring from inside the wall, she pushed them until she happened upon a sequence that opened the portal they controlled. The first person she told of her discovery was Impa, who had been delighted and eager to explore.

Hyrule Castle had been raised countless generations ago, and no one could give an exact date of its dedication. Zelda's former tutor, a quiet young man named Shad, had once guided her through the lines of her ancestry, which she had memorized alongside her multiplication tables. The branches of the royal family tree were tangled and unwieldy, and many names and dates were lost to the creeping amnesia of time. The accounts of the land's history were numerous and occasionally conflicting, and Zelda could only imagine how many times the castle was attacked and rebuilt. Its location on the high land rising from the crux of a river crossing was ideal, and Zelda thought it likely that its foundations had been laid over some ancient seat of power.

A new addition had been grafted onto the castle every hundred years or so, and the structure had become an odd mismatch of architectural styles drawn together by the distinctive white stone that the Gorons pulled from the mountains to the northeast. From the outside, the castle was grand and imposing. On the inside, however, it was easy to get lost, and even the staff tended to keep to the section of the castle pertinent to their duties. The royal family had not one seneschal but several, each in change of his or her own wing of the building, and it was possible that not even the Hylian kings and queens knew all the details of what transpired within the walls surrounding the castle grounds.

Zelda's rooms were located directly above the castle library, which overlooked the west gardens. Instead of exiting into the hallway running in front of the library, Zelda and Impa climbed down a set of cracked granite steps into the drainage system, from which they ascended outside into the garden, lifting a section of loose grating hidden in the grass.

Although the day had been warm, the night air was chilly, and Zelda was grateful for the quick pace Impa set as they moved north along the castle. The ornamental peach trees were just beginning to bloom, and their fluffy blossoms shone pale under the waning crescent moon. Later in the summer, the garden would be filled with the chirping of crickets and frogs, but now it was deathly still. In the distance Zelda could hear the faint metallic rattling of the hauberks worn by the castle guards, but she knew no one would notice her and Impa as they moved as silently as shadows along the raised hedges.

Directly to the north of the older section of the castle was an old wall whose stones had grown green with moss. Instead of entering the enclosure through the wrought iron gate, whose hinges had not been oiled in years, Zelda and Impa climbed the wall and slipped over its edge as smoothly as clouds crossing the moon.

Before them was a graveyard that had long since ceased to serve its function. The place reeked of neglect, its once proud tombstones spotted with lichens and leaning ever so slightly toward the ground. The grass between the monuments had grown tall, and weeds sprouted between the scattered pebbles marking the paths. An oak tree stood at the far corner of the wall, its thick roots breaking above the soil. It had not been tended or pruned, and its lower branches drooped into the underbrush.

Zelda and Impa carefully made their way to a large tombstone at the tree's base. The crumbling granite was inscribed with old Hylian letters too eroded to read. Directly in front of the tombstone was a bare patch of earth set with three large round river rocks arranged in a perfect triangle.

Zelda had once been brought to this exact spot by her mother, who had revealed a bit of her magic, singing to open a passage leading outside the castle walls. The young princess had been struck with wonder, amazed to see such a thing, but her mother had treated the matter with utmost practicality, as if she were explaining nothing more than how a farrier shoes a horse. The queen had brushed aside Zelda's questions but assured her daughter that the passage was hers to use should she ever need to escape the castle.

"But why would I need to escape?" Zelda had asked.

Her mother had given her a knowing smile. "You'll know when the time comes," she said, winking. Before Zelda could ask her anything else, she knelt and began tickling her under her arms, causing her to erupt in laughter.

In a clear and bright voice that might almost be mistaken for the call of a wild bird, Zelda sang the refrain of the song her mother had taught her. The ground around the triangle shimmered and vanished as if it had only been a mirage. It was replaced by large slabs of veined marble that formed an uneven staircase descending into the earth.

Zelda knew from frequent experience that the passage led down into the sewers running under the castle. By proceeding south through the waterway, she and Impa could bypass the walls and gates and guards on their way into Castle Town. There were any number of unpleasant creatures lurking in the darkness, but Zelda was armed, and she was not alone.

Impa stood at the top of the stairs and gestured impatiently.

"After you, Princess," she said, grinning.


	5. Whispers of Discord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda hears troubling rumors about the Gerudo emissary and learns that she hasn't escaped notice herself.

Telma's Bar was, in a word, disreputable. It occupied the basement of a tenement building, and it could only be accessed by way of an alley leading away from the market and down a perilous set of stairs that spilled out into a sunken courtyard paved with grimy stones. According to a city ordinance, taverns were to shut their doors with the changing of the midnight guard, and when revelers and miscreants were kicked out of other establishments they came to Telma's.

Telma was a large woman with a large voice who could silence an unruly crowd with one fierce look, and her tavern had been in operation for years simply because there was not a man or woman in Hyrule who could shut it down. There were all manner of rumors about Telma – that she was half Gerudo, that she was half Goron, that she was half Moblin, that she wasn't from the kingdom at all – but what was certain was that she was not a person to be crossed. Telma extended her hospitality to anyone who needed it, but Hylia help the unfortunate wretch who managed to incur her wrath.

Knowing that they would be able to conduct their business in peace, an odd assortment of people routinely turned up at Telma's Bar, from caffeinated students to truant soldiers to feckless gamblers to travelers ill at ease in their lodgings. Gossip flowed as freely as beer, and one could hear any number of tall tales for the price of a glass of ale. If Zelda and Impa were going to uncover information about Ganondorf anywhere, it would be here.

The tavern spread out into several rooms, but Impa went straight to the bar, where she parked herself a short distance from a middle-aged Zora who was perched on a stool next to a Goron and drinking like a proverbial fish. Impa was a regular, and a young woman immediately slid over from behind the bar and greeted her by name. Impa raised two fingers, and the girl quickly returned with two glasses of dark frothy beer. Zelda wondered how old she was and what she was doing in a place like this. Meanwhile, Impa was already wiping foam from her lips, so Zelda pushed down the linen covering her mouth and took a sip herself.

Even though it was late, the tavern buzzed with conversation, and Zelda had trouble picking up individual voices. She shot a glance to her left at Impa, whose attention appeared to be fixed on the Zora. Zelda looked to her right, where a hooded figure was drinking by herself. Judging by the elaborate embroidery on her cloak and the golden rings on her fingers, she was a Gerudo. Zelda felt a strange chill run down her spine and looked back toward Impa.

" – and it's been a mess ever since," the Zora said, setting down his empty glass.

"That sounds like a pain in the ass. No one knows what happened?" the Goron asked before popping a piece of paving gravel into his mouth.

The Zora tapped his slender fingers against the bar. "All I know are rumors," he responded as his facial fins drooped.

"I'd be interested to hear these rumors," Impa broke into the conversation. She signaled to the barmaid, who dutifully picked up the Zora's empty mug and took it to be refilled.

"I don't like to spread gossip..." the Zora began.

"Go on," Impa prompted.

The girl behind the bar plunked a full glass of beer in front of the Zora, who drank deeply before continuing.

"I could probably get in hot water for saying this, but everything started around the time that Gerudo started sneaking around," he eventually said, keeping his voice low. "He was a male too, which is something you don't see every day. Of course we get Gerudo traders around Zora's Fountain, and Gerudo herbalists coming for water and riverweeds, but he didn't seem to be with any of them. Some people even say he seemed to be avoiding them. Now isn't that strange," the Zora asked rhetorically before taking another long sip of his beer.

"So you think the male Gerudo has something to do with Jabun's illness," Impa suggested.

"I'm telling you," the Zora responded, making a superstitious warding gesture with his hand, "it's not an illness, it's a curse. Lord Jabun isn't the sort of creature that gets sick."

"I would imagine," Impa nodded.

"No one liked the look of that Gerudo," the Zora continued. "People say it seemed like he was angry about something. Not that he was with us for long, but word gets out if a guy looking like that is skulking around."

"I'm sorry," Zelda interjected, "and I don't mean to be rude, but if there were so many people keeping such a close eye on this man, wouldn't someone have noticed if he got close to Lord Jabun? The last I checked, Jabun kept to himself in the sacred lake higher upstream. Are you sure you all aren't just looking for someone to blame? I mean – "

Zelda cut herself off, suddenly embarrassed, but the Zora laughed and took another sip of beer.

"You're probably right," he admitted, "but the Gerudo is an easy target. I didn't see him myself, but they say he had a cursing look about him."

The Goron sitting on the other side of the Zora turned his head toward them. "Now that you mention it," he rumbled, "I hear there was a surly looking Gerudo up on Death Mountain recently. I don't know what this person was doing, or whether it was a man or a woman, but almost no one climbs up beyond the beaten path to the city. There's nothing on the mountain that would be of use to anyone besides us, so I didn't pay any attention to the rumors, but it makes you wonder."

"It does indeed," a voice spoke up from Zelda's right, startling her. Her hand jerked slightly, spilling a bit of beer from her glass onto the scarred wooden surface of the bar. Zelda glanced up, trying to keep her face neutral.

The Gerudo woman standing beside her had pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing deep russet hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her amber eyes were fringed with metallic lime eyeshadow that gleamed in the low light of the storm lanterns perched on the shelves behind the bar. The Gerudo directed a slight smile toward Zelda before addressing Impa.

"I'm also curious about the source of this gossip," she said. "There's only one man I know who fits these descriptions, and he should be at Hyrule Castle."

"Hmmm..." Impa considered the woman's statement. "And that would be the emissary. Would someone like him be capable of cursing a demigod?"

The Gerudo woman laughed. "Putting the matter of curses aside, it would take some serious magic to make the trip to Zora's Fountain and be back to the castle in time for dinner."

"For what it's worth," the Zora interjected, "this man is supposed to have been lurking around at night."

"Same here," the Goron added.

"I can't see how that makes much difference," Zelda jumped in. "It's impossible that anyone would be able to warp space and time like that."

The Gerudo woman looked momentarily surprised at Zelda's statement, but then she smiled. "Impossible it may be, but if anyone could do it, it would be Ganondorf. He's been trained in magic since he was a boy, and who knows what he's capable of now."

"Do all of the Gerudo know magic?" Impa asked her, smiling as if the concept were laughable.

The Gerudo woman grinned at Impa. "Only enough to get by in the desert," she said, withdrawing a rolled cigarette from a pocket of her cloak. She held it to her lips with her left hand and raised her right. To Zelda's surprise, a tiny flame appeared above her forefinger.

Suddenly a large hand smacked the counter. "No smoking next to the bar, Nabooru. You know that."

The hand and voice belonged to Telma, who had found her way over to them while Impa and the woman apparently named Nabooru were talking. As Zelda nodded a greeting, she noticed the Zora and the Goron stand up and move to a table deeper in the tavern. Not that Zelda blamed them. Telma was an imposing presence, standing well over six feet tall. Her huge arms were crossed in front of her, and a stern look was carved onto the striking features of her face.

"My bad," Nabooru apologized, twisting her wrist with a flourish and making both the flame and the cigarette disappear.

A smile crept over the corners of Telma's mouth as her eyes softened. "I know how you like to show off for the cute ones," she said, winking at Impa.

"Telma, you old goat. You flatter me," Impa said as she raised her glass in a mock toast.

Telma waved her hand at Impa and then looked directly at Zelda before speaking.

"This Gerudo boy you're asking about, he's been in here too. He keeps to himself, but wouldn't you know it, he sure perks up when anyone mentions the princess. If she's curious about this man, I think she should consider talking to him in person."

Zelda could feel herself blushing, so she looked away and took a sip of beer. She drank too fast and almost choked. As she coughed in embarrassment, she could sense Impa and Nabooru smiling over her head. She wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps she wasn't cut out for this sort of subterfuge.


	6. All That Glitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda and Ganondorf share a dance but fail to understand one another.

Pinpricks of light glittered on the crystal chandeliers hanging above the great hall of Hyrule Castle. These chandeliers had recently been installed to replace the oil lamps that used to hang from wrought iron sconces attached to the columns stretching up to the lofty ceiling. As the space began to see more frequent use, the heat and odor of burning oil had been declared unsanitary and impractical, and the king had commissioned gaslight fixtures that would showcase the marvels of modern technology.

The most magnificent of the new chandeliers was suspended above the dais supporting the thrones, where Zelda's father chatted with a circle of nobles. Zelda knew she should be standing with him, but the dancing would begin soon, and she needed to clear her head.

She had no illusions about the purpose of the evening. She was a princess of a certain age, and it was high time for her to enter into a marital engagement. She understood that it was in her best interests to use the evening to begin making advances toward suitable candidates, but she was distracted, her mind occupied with thoughts of the Gerudo emissary. Rumors buzzed around him like flies around an open storm grate. Zelda resolved to approach him and determine the veracity of these rumors for herself. Had they not once been friends, of a sort?

Men of high rank had come all the way from distant Holodrum and Labrynna to attend her coronation, and even the Duke of Ordon had made a show of introducing his son despite the fact that the boy was far too young to consider marriage. Others were too old, and some were already married. Zelda had been forced to spend hours in preparation to meet these men. Her hair had been brushed into a high sheen, and a light dusting of powder had been applied to her face. She had been misted with a perfume blended to suggest the gardenias blooming outside in the gardens before being adorned with a jeweled pendant and matching tiara that she vaguely remembered having seen her mother wear years ago. The process sorely tried her patience.

As she gestured to one of the servingmen circulating around the room, Zelda flexed the ring finger of her right hand. She had begun to practice playing the cerulean ocarina her father had given her, but her fingers were too clumsy to handle more than a few simple songs. Tuning the instrument was almost impossible, and it squawked all too frequently. She would need more practice, if only she could find the time for it.

The servingman approached her, but then his eyes grew wide. To Zelda's surprise, he bowed and walked swiftly away from her.

"You seem thirsty," a voice spoke from behind her. She turned to find Ganondorf offering her a glass of water.

"I – " Zelda's breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Thank you," she managed, taking the glass. She found herself at a loss for words, so she took a sip. The water was clear and cool.

"I've noticed you don't indulge in drink at court," Ganondorf said. "Don't you enjoy these little parties?"

"Well," Zelda forced a laugh, "they're not quite parties for us, are they? It always pays to keep one's wits. Surely you must abstain in such gatherings among the Gerudo."

"The night is precious to us. Any business that cannot be concluded in the light of day is not fit to be spoken of by moonlight."

"How... interesting," Zelda murmured as she looked away. At the edge of the hall the violinists had begun tuning their strings. She remembered her resolution and summoned a smile to her face.

"Say, Ganondorf."

He raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised by her use of his name.

"The other day, in front of the library... I'm afraid I was rude to you. It was early, and this is embarrassing to admit, but I had just woken from a terrible dream. I was out of sorts, and I didn't greet you as I should have. It's been so long since we've seen each other, and – "

Zelda was interrupted when the small orchestra struck its first note. When the people in the hall moved to clear the floor, she realized that she would be expected to lead the first dance. She met Ganondorf's eyes, and he held out his hand. _Why not_ , Zelda thought, and took it.

Zelda could hear murmurs from the assembled crowd as Ganondorf walked her across the tiled floor. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she saw that his face was fixed in a pleasantly neutral smile. Not to be outdone, she held her head high and did her best to appear graceful as he swept her into a starting position. The difference in their heights should have made this ungainly, but Ganondorf held her lightly and allowed her to keep enough distance to maintain her balance.

After they had taken their first steps, other couples joined them on the floor, and Zelda allowed herself to relax. Ganondorf was a skilled dancer, effortlessly guiding her within the spinning circles of bodies. As people whirled by, she noticed that she and her partner were being stared at, but she found that she didn't care. People had been staring at her all evening. Though everyone complimented her, Zelda knew that they were judging every aspect of her appearance, and she had become desensitized to their sharp eyes and critical glances. What good did it do her to worry, anyway? Until Ruto arrived, she was the only princess in the room.

Zelda was so absorbed in her musings that she almost didn't notice when Ganondorf spoke.

"Things have changed in this castle since I was last here," he said.

"My father has embraced change," she responded. "He's always telling me that he's not a big believer in tradition."

"Surely not all traditions should be forgotten? Even under gaslights, the steps of this dance do not change. If they had, I wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure of your company."

Zelda laughed. "Please forgive me for saying this, but you are mistaken. The steps shift with the fashion of the time. You must have learned them recently."

"You have the best of me. I did learn recently, so that I might attend your coronation."

"That is quite kind of you, Lord Dragmire."

At her use of his title, the smile on his face faltered slightly.

"I regret that I was not able to attend your own ceremony," she said softly.

"We are nothing more than a suzerainty, Princess. Your presence would have been unseemly," he replied. His smile had disappeared.

Zelda cast out for a means to alleviate the tension. "Oh, but I should have insisted on being allowed to make the journey. I haven't had many chances to travel beyond the city walls, and I'd like to hope that my presence would not have been too much of a burden on the hospitality of the Gerudo. Although surely I'm doing your people a disservice by keeping you here at the castle..."

Zelda knew she was rambling. She needed to change the topic, and quickly. "Unless perhaps you've come to court me?" she attempted.

Ganondorf's face twisted. "A marriage won't save Hyrule from what's coming," he scowled, "and if your father wants change, then by the gods, he will have it."

Zelda's blood turned to ice. "What... What are you talking about?" she stammered.

In an instant, the weight of Ganondorf's hands on her back and shoulder had become unbearably oppressive. Zelda was on the verge of breaking away from him when, mercifully, the song ended. It took every ounce of her willpower not to flee.

Before he released her, Ganondorf bent down and spoke directly into Zelda's ear. "All of the answers are in the past," he whispered. "As in the past, Hyrule will burn."

Zelda was repulsed by Ganondorf's words, and the touch of his breath on her skin made her shudder. And yet, as terrible as it was, the image of Hyrule Castle burning filled her with a strange sense of excitement. She felt paralyzed as her heart beat into her throat.

Ganondorf pulled away from her, holding her hand as he performed a courtly bow to thank her for the dance. Once again his face bore a smile. Despite herself, she was struck by how gracefully he moved, and the memory of his surprisingly delicate handwriting floated into her mind.

Ganondorf squeezed Zelda's fingers lightly before letting her go, and she was visited by a sudden intuition that she needed to work harder to understand the meaning of her mother's ocarina. Why had this man been searching for it in the library? What if it were truly a vessel for some sort of powerful magic?

As soon as she was free, Zelda turned away from Ganondorf. She refused to allow herself to be upset by his unprompted and dramatic insinuations before she had time to reflect on his words. She would spend the rest of the evening at her father's side, playing the role that was expected of her until the wine stopped flowing and the gaslamp chandeliers were finally extinguished for the night.

 _But when the sun rises_ , she decided, _I'll talk to Link_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comic by the fabulous [Lightsintheskye](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/), who is able to take the rough outlines of my story and fill them with light, color, and vibrant detail. You can find a larger panel-by-panel version of this comic [on her Tumblr](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/post/163346502646/a-continuation-piece-for-the-incredibly-talented).


	7. Swifter Than Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda has a conversation with Link and runs in the direction her intuition guides her.

Zelda ran through the castle corridors, her feet flying along the carpets laid down over the old stone floors. The sun had begun to shine through the eastern windows, and Zelda's shadow ran behind her. She had lingered too long over her morning tea, and she needed to hurry if she wanted to catch Link.

The twisting hallways branched into tangles of intersections, but Zelda knew the way to the riding grounds as surely as she knew any path through the castle. This is where the guards trained, and she used to visit on a daily basis to practice fencing and archery with Impa.

The stables were cared for by Darknuts, a tribe from the south known for their tradition of animal husbandry. They rarely entered the castle itself, apparently preferring to sleep and eat in the open air. An older Darknut named Barghest, whose dark coat had already begun to fade to gray around his muzzle, had always been kind to Zelda. Most of the members of his tribe had left the castle in recent years, but Barghest remained, and he had begun to take on Hylian apprentices. Link, who hailed from the northern border of Ordon Province, was one of them.

Like the Darknuts, Link had a way with animals. He could also play any instrument, and Zelda had often found him singing to the horses in the stables as if he were speaking with them. Link was infamous for sleeping until noon, but Zelda knew this was because he kept the same schedule as the creatures under his care. If she wasn't too late, she would be able to catch him before his morning nap.

Although they had only known each other for just shy of two years, Link had struck up a friendship with Zelda. He'd also managed to charm Impa, and the two of them often sparred at dusk while Zelda was busy at court. The young man said he had been a goatherd on a small ranch before coming to the castle, but his familiarity with a blade caused Zelda to wonder if this was really true. There had always been reports of aggressive wildlife in the southern forests, but there was something about Link's skill that suggested more than a simple ranch hand fending off keese in the night. Despite his easygoing nature, Zelda had always felt that there was something dangerous about Link. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he had something of the same air about him as Ganondorf. Still, if he volunteered no information about himself, she would not ask.

On emerging from one of the side entrances to the castle, Zelda was greeted by Barghest, who was sweeping the dirt in front of the main stable building.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he called out, raising a hand in a wave before bowing his head.

"It's already starting to get warm, isn't it," she returned his greeting, bowing her head in turn.

"We've got a colt that's been giving us trouble," he remarked, gesturing with his claw. "If you're looking for Link, he's in the south shed."

Zelda thanked him and made her way to one of the smaller structures surrounding the riding grounds. She heard Link before she saw him. He was perched on a stool with his back to her, strumming a guitar and humming to the colt in the penned enclosure in front of him. Not many people played the guitar in Hyrule, and Zelda wondered where Link could possibly have picked it up.

"Good morning, farm boy," she raised her voice to get his attention. "Fancy seeing you awake this early."

Link turned, his piercing blue eyes sparkling in the shaft of sunlight that streamed in through an open window. He grinned and stood, never missing a beat in his song.

"Ah, fair princess," he addressed her, "have you come to be serenaded by your humble stable hand? What will the king think, to know that his daughter is in love with her servant?"

"His heart will break, but I'm sure it will heal in time," Zelda said, smiling as she rummaged in her satchel for the ocarina. She withdrew it and presented it to Link. "I came to ask if you've ever seen anything like this."

He stopped playing his guitar, laying his hand across the strings to silence them before carefully placing the instrument on his stool.

"Sure," he said, and nodded. "It's an ocarina, and it looks to be a fine one at that." He held out his hand, and Zelda passed it to him.

"Usually these things are made of wood or clay," Link continued as he examined the instrument, "but I've never seen anything like this. Any idea where it came from?"

Zelda shrugged. "It belonged to my mother. Other than that, I couldn't say."

"A priceless family heirloom, no doubt," Link laughed. "And here I am, getting my dirty fingerprints all over it. Do let me know in advance the next time you come bearing riches."

"Can you play it?"

"But of course." Link held the mouthpiece to his lips and blew. The ocarina made a sound like a dying cucco. The colt in the pen let out an irate bray in response. Link frowned and tried again, and this time a low and mellow whistle emerged. He moved his fingers across the holes at the top of the instrument as he progressed through a series of scales. After a few missed notes, he seemed to get the hang of it. Meeting Zelda's eyes, he played the chorus of a filthy drinking song popular among the Zora.

Zelda applauded his performance. "How do you do that?" she asked.

"Practice," Link replied, gazing intensely at the ocarina as he turned it over in his hands. "Practice, and innate genius. The more important question is, why is someone like you coming to someone like me about something like this? And might I say, this is beautifully made. I don't suppose I could persuade you to let me keep it? As a reward for all my years of faithful service?"

"Afraid not."

"A pity," Link sighed. He returned the ocarina to Zelda, making a dramatic show of being unable to part with it.

As she took it from him, Zelda's eyes returned to the guitar sitting on Link's stool.

"Say," she began, "have you had any encounters with the Gerudo emissary?"

"Encounters?" Link arched an eyebrow. "Only as many as I can get. Have you seen the bone structure of that man's face? You could slice bread with his cheekbones."

"Blessed Nayru, Link. Be serious. Have you talked with him?"

"Talked? Not as such, no. I've been too busy watching him stride around in those loose trousers he wears. Why do you ask?"

As ridiculous as Link could be sometimes, he had always been discrete, and he was the only other person in the castle who knew about Impaz. Zelda decided that she could trust him. There was no need to waste time getting to her point.

"I had a strange conversation with Sir Dragmire yesterday evening. He told me, in his exact words, that 'Hyrule will burn.'"

"How... bizarre. That sounds awkward," Link responded.

Startled, Zelda let out a laugh. "It was! And it truly came out of nowhere. On top of that, there have been rumors about a Gerudo man on Death Mountain and in Zora's Fountain. That's why I'm asking you if you've noticed anything unusual about him."

"Aside from his gorgeous hair?"

"Has he been coming and going at odd hours?"

Link exhaled. "Coming and going? No. He keeps desert hours, and he dotes on that gigantic black mare of his, but I haven't seen him leave. The strangest thing about him is that he's always alone. This man is a prince, right?"

"I believe he's considered a king."

"So much the better, but it's highly unusual, the way he keeps to himself. Every gentleman or noblewoman who keeps even the smallest goshawk in the aviary needs an entourage of at least half a dozen people to fly the bird, but Ganondorf only enjoys his own company. His surliness puts even your standoffishness to shame."

"I'm not standoffish."

"Whatever you say, Princess. I'm simply suggesting that it strikes me as weird that he has no attendants or acquaintances. I can imagine that rumors would spread about someone like him, especially since he's so... striking."

Zelda made a noncommittal sound of agreement. She had thought the same thing herself, and she had struggled to find an explanation. It was true that no one had been particularly friendly to Ganondorf, but it was also true that there were no other Gerudo at court. This had bothered her when she noticed, as she remembered things being different when she was younger. She'd meant to ask her father what had changed, but she hadn't yet gotten a chance. It was most unusual that no one had approached Ganondorf seeking friendship, especially since the Gerudo controlled the western trade routes through the desert and were famously wealthy. Even more peculiar was that Link, who could and would strike up a conversation with anyone, had only watched Ganondorf without ever trying to speak with him. It was all very curious.

"In any case," she changed the subject, "if I wanted to learn how to play this ocarina, how would you recommend that I go about doing so?"

Link fixed her with a searching look for a moment, but then he shrugged. "The ocarina is an old-fashioned instrument. Only farmers and shepherds still play them, but from what I understand they used to be quite popular at court. If the stories I grew up with can be believed, every hero and princess played an ocarina, or something like it. I wouldn't be surprised if there are songbooks in that library of yours, probably shelved right next to the fairy tales."

"Oh!" Zelda gasped. Link was right – he was exactly right. In fact, there was a short list of songs in the back of the book that Ganondorf had been reading. How could she have forgotten?

Suddenly filled with a compulsion to check the book again, Zelda quickly excused herself, pretending not to notice Link's confusion. She would explain everything to him later, when the time was right, but at the moment her suspicions seemed too far-fetched. Assuming that her mother's ocarina was a legendary instrument of power, could playing the right song in the right way really grant her the power to manipulate time? Although the notion was ridiculous, Zelda's mother had taught her a number of songs with magical properties, and she remembered that Ganondorf had also been skilled with magic as a child – sometimes annoyingly so. As she remembered how his fingers moved when he had once invoked fire on a dare, she could almost feel his breath in her ear as he had whispered that Hyrule would burn. What had he been trying to tell her?

Zelda rushed back to the library along a route that she knew would be deserted. She felt herself drawn to the old book in the library, and she couldn't stand the thought of being interrupted before it was in her hands again. A princess must be calm and composed, but there was nothing stately or regal about her as she ran down the castle corridors, delighting in the way the oil portraits and bay windows seemed to slide by her.

When she arrived at the library, she slipped through the doors, allowing them to close softly behind her. She made her way between the shelves, her feet leading her directly to the records of ancient legends. After locating the slim volume she had so recently consulted, she withdrew it from its place and flipped past the words and illustrations, going straight to the end of the book. There she found several songs, which were drawn not as notes on a scale but as a series of finger positions on the holes of an ocarina. Her eyes jumped to a short piece titled "Song of Time." Although the ink had faded into the jaundiced paper, it seemed to glow in the faint light filtering through the stacks.

Zelda took out her ocarina. She was excited to play it, but when she put the instrument to her lips she found that it was difficult to read the notation and move her fingers at the same time. Her first few attempts to make it to the end of the song were clumsy, and she would have been mortally embarrassed had anyone been around to hear her. As she focused her attention and repeated the song, over and then over again until she could play it from memory, she began to lose herself in the melody.

The music flowed within her and lifted her spirit. Her fingers began to move almost of their own accord, and her eyes drifted back to the pages of the book. The next piece, "Song of the Hero," seemed to float in the air in front of her. Without thinking, she wove its notes into the Song of Time, and her playing rang out as smooth and as rich as if she were singing in her own voice.

As the last note resonated on her tongue and under her fingers, Zelda was struck by an overwhelming sense of vertigo. In an instant, her body seemed unanchored and weightless, as if the floor of the library had fallen away from under her feet. In desperation, she closed her eyes, and she felt the world shift around her. The sensation was delicate and subtle, but the change was palpable, like remembering something that had once been lost.

When Zelda opened her eyes, the fine traces of magic still lingered on her skin like gossamer. She was standing between the towering bookshelves of the library, but everything was different.

 _Where am I?_ she thought to herself, but she knew the answer. A more pressing question immediately inserted itself into her mind. _When am I?_


	8. A Zelda to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda witnesses the horror of a medieval war against the Demon King.

Zelda opened her eyes to find herself still in the library, yet everything was different. Instead of old paper, the room smelled of tanned leather. The books on the shelves were less haggard, the gilt lettering of their titles brighter. The collection of legends that Zelda had propped up against a row of spines as she played was gone, as was her satchel.

Something about the quality of the light in the room seemed innately wrong. Placing the ocarina on the shelf in front of her, Zelda walked toward the high windows set into the wall by the door. The sky beyond the glass was a brilliant crimson, and black smoke hovered like a malevolent cloud beyond the wall surrounding the castle garden. It was the landscape of a nightmare.

The light shifted, and Zelda caught a glimpse of the reflection mirrored on the surface of the window. She gasped as her heart leapt in her throat. Instead of her own familiar image, a stranger was staring back at her – or no, not a stranger. Zelda touched her fingertips to the windowpane, tracing the curve of her jaw. She could swear that she had seen this face somewhere before. She tilted her head and frowned, and suddenly she knew who was looking back at her.

The face overlaid onto the red sky was that of the queen whose portrait hung on the wall in the corridor outside the library. Zelda remembered the painted figure as having stern eyes and harsh lines etched across her face. The silver glint of the chevron-shaped diadem half hidden by her dark hair confirmed that she was still a princess, as nothing less than gold would have been worn by a full monarch in Hyrule's medieval age. She must be a younger version of the queen in the portrait, then. This woman had been a Zelda as well, known to history as the ruler who ushered in an era of enlightenment and rationality after a terrible war. If she had indeed slipped into the body and identity of this renowned historical figure, that would mean she had jumped more than two hundred years into the past.

Zelda was struck with a sense of vertigo, and she looked down at her hands to steady herself. Her nails were bitten almost to the quick, and her knuckles were raw and chapped.

This was too much to take in. She turned away from the window and sat down at the oak table. In the strange light she could clearly see the rough grain of the wood, which appeared to have been newly cut. She ran a hand across its surface and winced when a splinter pierced the tip of her index finger. Exhaling slowly, Zelda carefully extracted the needle of wood. Her mind raced. This could not possibly be real, yet here she was.

As a girl, Zelda had been visited by odd dreams. The night before her eighth birthday, she dreamed of a herd of wild horses, their manes streaming in the wind as they ran. The next day, she hadn't been surprised in the least by her father's pronouncement that she would finally be allowed to receive riding lessons. She could predict the first thunderstorm of summer and the exact day the apples on the trees in the orchard would ripen and lose their bitterness. No lost object could stay hidden from her, and she always had a sense of when letters would arrive. At times, her dreams were as real to her as the waking world, and when she was younger it had occasionally been difficult to differentiate between what she had seen with her eyes and what she had only seen in her mind. She had been warned about her dreams, gently by her mother and more cautiously by her father. Children her own age, girls close to her in blood and rank, had ridiculed her, saying that she was only playing at being special, that being a princess was not enough for her.

The only person who had ever given her dreams serious consideration was Ganondorf. He had been a quiet boy, and Zelda was embarrassed to recall that she had taken advantage of his silence to talk his ears off. He had always listened to her, even when the dreams she related to him were strange and frightening. He would help her interpret the elements of what appeared to her in her nightmares, stumbling over words as he did his best to describe the symbolism of Gerudo folklore in her language.

 _How earnest he was, and how kind_ , Zelda mused. She could not deny that there was something about their recent conversations that she found unnerving, but he had done nothing to harm her. She had treated him poorly by avoiding him. "All of the answers are in the past," he'd said. This cryptic statement troubled her, but it was entirely possible that he understood something that was out of her reach. Perhaps he could help her make sense of this bizarre vision she was currently experiencing. Was this nothing more than another dream, or had she truly gone back in time?

Regardless, while she was here – while she was _now_ – she may as well make the best of it. Zelda pushed her chair away from the table. She couldn't deny that this opportunity to witness history with her own eyes excited her. As she stood, she glanced at the red sky through the window once again and lamented her tendency to jump to the worst conclusions. Although the lurid sky and billowing cloud of smoke were undeniably out of the ordinary, there need not be anything sinister going on. There could just be a festival in Castle Town, some sort of celebration with fireworks, or a bonfire, or...

Suddenly the doors of the library burst open.

Startled, Zelda jumped back. As she grabbed the edge of the table for balance, another splinter dug itself into her palm, but she barely noticed the pain. Striding through the doorway was none other than Link.

"Your Highness," he addressed her, kneeling.

Your Highness? When had Link ever said such a thing? When had he ever knelt in front of her? It took Zelda a moment to realize that the young man could not possibly be Link. His eyes were the same shade of radiant blue, but they cast a hard glint. The line of his lips and the set of his jaw belied none of Link's good humor, and there was a long scar running down his cheek. His hair was greasy and matted, and his tunic was speckled with what Zelda hoped was mud.

She had no idea how she should respond to him. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

He opened his mouth and closed it, his eyebrows furrowing in consternation.

"Your Highness?" he ventured, apparently not understanding her response.

"Right," Zelda said, realizing that she would have to play the part of her ancestor. She coughed, then continued, "Rise, Sir Knight, and pray deliver your report."

The young man who was not Link stood. "The Demon King is at the gate," he said. "He has come alone, announcing that he wishes to parlay with you, and that he delivers an offering to signify his intentions."

Here he paused, waiting for her to speak.

"I understand. I guess..." Zelda swallowed. Her fears about the unnatural color of the sky had been confirmed. She could not imagine a more awful situation. She had only the most tenuous grasp on who she was supposed to be, and now she had to preside over a war?

"Take me to him," she corrected herself. "There is no time to waste."

"Very well, Highness," the young man replied, his voice soft and sad. He looked as if he were about to say something else, but he desisted. When he turned to hold the door open for her he moved with the same fluid grace as the Link she had just spoken with earlier that morning. Zelda wished she could ask him for his name, but it was not the time, though she dearly wished to remain in the quiet haven of the library instead of facing whatever was waiting for her outside the castle gate.

As soon as she stepped across the threshold into the hallway, Zelda was confronted with the statue of Hylia standing in the alcove. The marble was coated in a thick layer of dust, as if it hadn't been polished for years, if not decades. Instead of radiating divine benevolence, the statue seemed to be grimacing. Zelda looked away. _May the Goddess grant me wisdom_ , she prayed.

She set the pace through the castle corridors, which were devoid of their familiar carpets. There was no glass in the windows lining the hallways, and the flames of the torches set into the walls flickered in the breeze. Zelda's footfalls rang out against the naked stone of the floor, while the young knight moved behind her with only the barest metallic rustling of the chain mail under his tunic.

When they arrived at the overlook facing the front gate of the castle wall, Zelda was dismayed to find that the approach was lined by several rows of soldiers, many of whom were injured, the blades of their glaives tarnished and chipped. The dull metal of their breastplates appeared almost black in the eerie dimness created by the smoke rising from Castle Town. The air was thick with ash, which stung Zelda's eyes and burned her throat as she caught her breath.

She walked to the parapet lining the top of the castle's inner wall and placed her hands on the crenellations as she looked down. From this vantage point, she could tell that the enclosed space was much smaller than the front courtyard of her own time. The outer wall of the castle must have been rebuilt at some point. Zelda's stomach sank as she realized the implications of this observation. Before the new wall had gone up, it must have been torn down. The splinter in her palm had already begun to hurt, but she ignored it as she straightened her back and prepared to address the assembly below.

"Allow the Demon King to enter." The words left her mouth before they had even formed as thoughts in her mind. "We will see what plea he offers, and we shall treat with him accordingly."

Zelda raised an arm over her head, wondering whether it had truly been her who delivered this proclamation, or whether it was a trace of the princess whose body she now shared. Regardless, her command carried weight, and a pair of soldiers on either side of the fortified castle gate signaled to one another as they operated its pulley system. The creak of the wood against the iron chains filled Zelda with dread.

When the massive door had been fully raised, Zelda could finally see the dark figure lurking on the other side of the wall. Through the smoky haze he was nothing more than the outline of an impossibly large man, but she had no trouble perceiving the huddled lumps on either side of his path. Zelda was appalled that so much death could come at the hands of one person.

"Archers," she said softly. The twin lines of soldiers standing to either side of her readied their arrows. Zelda wondered why the man hadn't already been shot down, but all extraneous thought was chased from her mind as the dark figure began to move inexorably forward.

The assembly was silent as the man walked through the archway of the ancient gate. He wore a full suit of armor as black as obsidian. From his shoulders hung a cape that was so heavy it barely fluttered. Zelda squinted to make out his face. As he drew closer, his features swam into focus, and she had to brace herself against the stone of the castle ramparts for support.

There was no mistaking it – the Demon King was Ganondorf.

His teeth were bared, and his face was cruel. His eyes were sunken, and the lines of his cheekbones stood out in stark contrast. The knotted and unruly mane of his hair was pushed back from his high forehead by a hideous headdress outfitted with a corona of daggers. It was hard to believe that this grotesque apparition was the same man who had held her so lightly when they danced, but his eyes were unmistakable.

He clutched a sodden burlap sack in his clawed gauntlet. As he looked up to meet her gaze, he raised his trophy slowly.

"Zelda!" he called out, his oddly melodious voice ringing out across the stone walls. "I bring you something you hold dear. I present it to you as a gesture of goodwill. Accept this token that our goals are in alignment."

With this declaration, he tossed the bag to her, and it flew through the distance between them in a perfect arc. Zelda leaned forward and, to her immense surprise, caught it. It was unpleasantly heavy. Not knowing what else to do, Zelda untied the loose knot at the bag's mouth and reached inside. She shivered as her fingers brushed against a clump of hair. Her arm trembling, she lifted a human head. Its dead eyes fixed her in a blank stare.

A collective gasp rose from the soldiers who had watched this scene play out. Zelda was shocked, but the appropriate response eluded her.

"Highness, this is your fiancé," the young knight whispered at her shoulder.

Zelda turned and placed the disembodied head into his hands. Her fiancé? To her knowledge, this Zelda had never married. She looked back down at the Demon King in the courtyard. What she saw on his face was not murderous intent, but yearning. Zelda couldn't tear her eyes away from him as she said the only thing she could think of, the only thing she could say.

"Kill him."


	9. The Tipping of an Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda presses Impa for answers about the history of Hyrule.

Zelda allowed the ocarina to fall to the floor between the library bookshelves, not caring if it broke. She dashed to the window looking out over the garden. The sky was a pale powdery blue, and the outer wall of the castle was only barely visible over the tops of the trees. The reflection mirrored on the window glass was unmistakably that of her own face.

She sighed with relief. Thanks to the grace of the goddess, she had been able to make it back to her own time.

When she ordered that the Demon King be killed, he had roared like an erupting volcano, and she immediately understood why he allowed himself to walk into her castle unarmed. He was possessed of a power whose like she had never seen, and he needed no weapon.

He swept his hand in front of him, and an immense shockwave exploded outward, knocking over the soldiers who surrounded him as easily as if they had been nothing more than straw-filled training dummies. Those standing closest to him took the full brunt of the force of his magic, their limbs flying from their bodies in a hideous spray of blood. Zelda could hear the young knight standing at her side draw his sword, and then she was running, rushing to get away from the carnage as swiftly as she could. She had dashed to the library and grabbed the ocarina from the shelf where she'd left it before thrusting it to her mouth and playing the song that brought her to this era as if her life depended on it.

Now that the frantic beating of her heart was beginning to slow, Zelda felt that she could process what had happened to her. Had she experienced nothing more than a vision, or had she somehow managed to travel through time? Had her mind been sent into the body of her ancestor? She had felt no other presence guiding her actions, and she'd been sitting in the exact same position on the library floor when she returned to her own time. It seemed that she had somehow replaced the former queen in her own body, but there had been no exchange of their spirits.

Zelda's finger throbbed, and she stretched out her hands in front of her. A long splinter of wood was still lodged in her flesh. She braced herself and removed it with her nails, scanning the surface of the library table for any indication that she had touched it two hundred years ago. There were none, of course. How could there be?

 _May the Goddess grant me wisdom_ , Zelda prayed.

In any case, she would need to retrieve the ocarina from where she dropped it. Something so powerful should not be left lying around. In the legend about the fabled instrument, the hero used it to move bodily through time, sending his entire person into the past or future, whether it was a span of years or just a few days. Or was that really how it worked? Had the hero only been able to shift his consciousness from one point in time to another? Zelda cursed herself for not having questioned the details of the story more thoroughly. She knew that magic was real, as she had seen its effects with her own eyes and could even command a bit of it herself. If nothing else, her dreams and visions had always been clear and true. Regardless, magic was something she was happy to leave to Impa, who had been trained according to Sheikah traditions and had a small foundation of knowledge on the subject, which was more than Zelda could say of her own understanding.

Zelda picked up the ocarina from where she'd left it on the library floor and tucked it carefully into her satchel. She would have to talk with Impa, and soon. The angle of the light streaming through the library windows indicated that she was already late to her morning briefing, and her chief secretary had more than likely already sent a courier to fetch her. If she wanted to speak with Impa, she would have to cancel one of the afternoon's audiences, but surely this turn of events was important enough to warrant the rearrangement of her schedule. Even a year ago she would have felt anxiety about the inconvenience to her staff, but she was learning that this was only what was expected of her – to give orders, and to be obeyed. She must be flexible, but only she could control the direction of her will. If she did not exercise her right to dictate her own priorities, the strength of her commands would atrophy as those around her gradually lost their respect for her time and patience.

In the hallway outside the library, Zelda stood in front of the portrait of her ancestor. The former queen's face was wise, but strained and severe. Had Zelda witnessed the war she'd supposedly won? How could she have possibly triumphed over the man who looked like Ganondorf, who had destroyed rows of heavily armed soldiers with a mere sweep of his hand? He did not seem to want to be the queen's enemy. How had the war started, then? It now seemed strange to Zelda that she knew so little about this conflict. She could recite the queen's lineage from memory, as well as the titles and stipulations of dozens of laws that had been enacted during her reign. Why did she not know more details concerning the war her ancestor had presided over when the woman was scarcely older than she was now?

 _Hyrule will burn_. Ganondorf's words from the previous evening still lingered in her ears, and she could still feel the touch of his breath on her neck. Zelda caught herself pressing her fingers to the spot on her face where his skin had briefly brushed against hers, and she quickly lowered her hand. She didn't know whether Ganondorf was capable of starting a war, or even whether that was his intention, but she understood that she could never again stand on the castle ramparts and relive the horror she had just experienced. She may not have the spiritual strength of her ancestor, but she promised herself that she would find a better way.

▲     ▲     ▲

"The war two hundred years ago?" Impa asked, raising her eyebrows. "Out of the two of us, you're the historian. What could I possibly tell you that you don't already know?"

Zelda studied Impa's face, but it was as smooth as a mask and betrayed no emotion. Impa had taught her how to achieve this same neutrality of expression years ago. She knew Impa was hiding something, but she supposed this was only natural. If she wanted Impa's honesty, she would have to be honest herself.

And so she told Impa everything. She'd only managed to free an hour of her schedule, so she spoke as concisely and with as much precision as she could manage. Impa listened without interrupting, her face becoming progressively more serious. When Zelda reached the end of her story, Impa nodded.

"It's finally started, then," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zelda was irritated. She had expected concern, or perhaps even gentle teasing, and Impa's attitude of knowing resignation came as an unpleasant surprise.

"What's finally started?" Zelda raised her voice. "If you know something, I want you to tell me."

Impa smirked, her face bitter. "There are legends about the Zeldas. Did you think you were exempt?"

Zelda bit her lip to silence a retort but then spoke her mind anyway. "Don't give me any of this 'mystical Sheikah wisdom' nonsense. I just came into possession of a legendary artifact of staggering potential and saw a vision of a war, and this is right after the leader of the Gerudo all but promised that something terrible is going to happen to my kingdom. If you were waiting until my coronation to induct me into some sort of esoteric mystery, I urge you to – "

Zelda suddenly became aware that she had begun to channel the speech and bearing of the former queen whose body she had so recently inhabited. She sighed and let her shoulders drop. "...I'd like you to please reconsider," she finished in a softer voice.

Impa seemed to have paid her outburst no mind, however. "I was warned this might happen," she said, tapping the fingers of her right hand against her arm, "but I didn't think it actually would."

She shook her head and met Zelda's eyes. "There's not much to tell, except that all of the legends about the princesses and their heroes are true. The specifics may have been changed over time, but the foundation remains solid. Every one of those princesses existed in this world, as did every demon they fought."

"But that makes no sense," Zelda objected. "There are far too many legends for them all to be true. And if they were, we would have historical records of at least some of them. I was taught that the last Queen Zelda oversaw a war surrounding a border conflict, not the invasion of a Gerudo warlord."

Impa shook her head. "Blessed Nayru, where do I even begin. I thought His Majesty would have told you something about this. I'm assuming he didn't?"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, Impa. If it's not a matter of historical record, then I haven't read it."

"You haven't... read it. Of course. This is why we Sheikah don't write things down. Books can be burned, and records can be altered or lost altogether."

"So you have an oral tradition, I understand that." Zelda made an impatient gesture. "But something this big, a man with enough power to destroy an entire army all on his own... Hyrule should have its own oral record of something like that. If such a person actually existed, don't you think people would tell stories about him? There's no way he wouldn't have become the subject of all manner of rumors. Especially since..."

 _Especially since he was so young and attractive_ , Zelda started to say, but she caught herself.

Impa frowned and looked away. "I'm going to say something that I probably shouldn't. The Sheikah are supposed to serve the royal family, not criticize it, but this has always bothered me..."

"Go on," Zelda prompted, intrigued.

"You're thinking about this like a princess, not a politician. Let me ask you, what purpose does it serve for the royal family to allow people to know that their monarchy was almost brought to its knees by the actions of one man? If the throne is so weak that it can be seized by an outsider, and a Gerudo outsider at that, then what's to stop anyone else from claiming it? If your family's control over this kingdom isn't absolute, then what's to stop any disgruntled farmhand with delusions of grandeur from becoming the seed that grows into the next uprising?"

Zelda immediately saw Impa's point. "And so an invasion becomes a 'border skirmish.'"

"And a man becomes a monster, a monster that was defeated because of the noble efforts of the princess and her hero. It's hitting two birds with one stone, really."

"Of course. The risk of political dissent is minimized, while patriotism and loyalty are encouraged."

Impa's face remained grim as she uncrossed her arms and cracked her knuckles, a gesture that Zelda knew indicated she was upset about something.

"You've always been a quick study when it comes to logic," Impa said, "but politics aren't the only forces at play here. What you need to understand is that, while the demons of legend are ideological constructs, they are also literal monsters."

"Impa, that's..." Zelda searched for the right words to respond to Impa's unfortunate phrasing, which was uncharacteristic of her friend, who usually had no patience for unjustified prejudice. "...extremely unkind," she finally said. "The Darknuts used to be considered monsters, as did the Bokoblins, and you know that even now..."

"They are discriminated against, of course. That's not what I mean by 'monster.' What I mean is that there are forces in Hyrule that we don't fully understand, just as we don't fully understand the nature of the goddess that your line claims as its ancestor. But that doesn't mean that they don't exist. It's just like how we accept the existence of magic, even if most of us don’t believe it has any bearing on our own lives. When it's wielded by the royal family in the service of the people of Hyrule, we consider magic to be good. But there is some magic that can twist people's hearts and minds, including those of the Darknuts and Bokoblins that attacked this kingdom during the reign of the last Zelda. This is how monsters are created. These monsters are not the demonization of a rebellion, but akin to natural disasters in the destruction they bring."

Zelda's mind raced as she struggled to process what Impa was telling her. "But the hero always wins," she pointed out. "So why haven't these monsters been defeated already?"

"As a member of the royal family, you've been trained to understand time as being teleological, progressing in a straight line from one point to another toward the greater glory of your kingdom. But we Sheikah..."

Impa held her hands in front of her chest, her palms facing each other. "We Sheikah see time as cyclical. History does not progress; it repeats itself." She flipped the position of her hands as if she were turning over an hourglass. "And the time has come around once again for the princess to face a great evil."

"And you think this princess is me? So tell me, what's the great evil I'm supposed to face?"

"It's too soon to be certain, but the Gerudo emissary seems to be up to something."

"Be that as it may, I don't want to fight a war. I _can't_ fight a war. Impa, you know that."

"And that's where we Sheikah come in," Impa said, her eyes cold. "You don't always need a hero to defeat a monster. Sometimes all you need is another monster."

 _You're not a monster_ , Zelda wanted to say, but the truth was that she knew better. Like all Sheikah warriors, Impa had been trained as an assassin. As Impa's apprentice, she was no stranger to this training herself. She would need time to consider the implications of what Impa had told her, but time was the one thing she didn't have. If nothing else, she had to resume her afternoon audiences. She could already hear the undersecretary sent to retrieve her outside the door of the small chamber adjoining the stateroom.

"Thank you for speaking freely to me. I apologize for springing this on you so suddenly. Let's discuss this later," she said, turning away from Impa. _And we'll see if I become a monster myself_ , she wanted to add, but this time she held her tongue. Before she was a Sheikah apprentice, and before she was a politician, she was a princess, and a princess must be graceful and composed.


	10. A Softer Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda and Ganondorf reminisce about their shared memories of childhood.

Zelda ran her hand across the moss covering the outstretched wing of the stone statue of Hylia, appreciating how soft and springy it was under her fingertips. Perhaps in another era, the statue would have been cleaned daily, but she was practically the only person who visited the castle's inner garden these days. Small gatherings had been held here when her mother was still alive, but now only Impa accompanied her on her visits, and then only rarely.

This was a shame, Zelda reflected, as the garden was quite beautiful. It was located within the walls of one of the oldest parts of the castle, right next to the library. The white stone of the masonry had aged gracefully, covered as it was with ivy and heartvine. Judging from the fountain at the center of the area, which had been allowed to run dry and gradually fill with earth and clover, the garden must have once been purely ornamental, but Zelda's mother had grown a variety of medicinal plants here. Zelda maintained these plantings and continued to study their applications, even though she did not have frequent cause to make use of them.

Among them were some she hoped she would never use. Any medicine improperly applied could become a poison, of course, but some tinctures served only to bring pain. The most dangerous of the plants in the garden was a white bellflower ringed with blue. Impa referred to it as the "silent princess," as it was known within Sheikah lore for doing its work efficiently and then vanishing without a trace. It was difficult to cultivate, but it had been a favorite of her mother. Zelda admired its beauty, and she had to admit that she admired its power as well. She hoped she would never have to avail herself of the silent princess, but she also understood that her personal ethics would be forever subservient to her position as a monarch of Hyrule.

 _If what Impa told me is true_ , she thought, tracing her finger around the outer rim of one of the freshly blooming flowers, _my coronation may be the least of my worries at the moment_.

"It's rare to see such a flower grown in captivity," a voice said at her back. "What is it you Hylians call it? The 'silent princess,' if I'm not mistaken."

Zelda's blood froze.

"Good afternoon, Ganondorf," she said, politely acknowledging his presence as a reflex but unable to prevent her next words from leaving her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

"I was given to understand that this is not a private place," he replied, and she could hear the frown in his voice even before she turned to face him.

"That's true," she agreed, "but very few people enter this garden. It's a bit out of the way."

"Indeed it is, but it was you who showed me how to get here. Don't you remember?"

As soon as he said this, a shadow of a memory flickered through her mind.

"You brought me here after we first met," he added, a faint note of sadness in his voice.

"That's right," Zelda whispered, the memory suddenly clear.

As a child, she hadn't been allowed to play with the other children in the castle. It didn't matter whether they were the daughters and sons of the staff or the nobility; if she so much as struck up a conversation, an adult would quickly materialize to usher her elsewhere. She was the only child of her parents, and, as such, she was precious. She could not be allowed to come to physical harm, nor was she allowed to compromise her reputation as the crown princess with any childish gossip or imaginings. Although Zelda had desperately wanted to play with children her own age, she had been strictly trained to be quiet and reserved. When the expectation that she remain still and silent became too much to bear, she found refuge in the library, where no one would interrupt her to tell her how to behave.

Late one afternoon Zelda had escaped from an interminable tea luncheon, fleeing to the library only to find a boy perhaps a year or two older than her sitting in a chair much too large for him. He was flipping through a book that he obviously wasn't reading. Zelda could still remember its title, _An Agricultural History of the Zora River Basin_. When she entered the room, the large oak door swinging softly shut behind her, the boy had given her a sullen look, as if annoyed by her intrusion. No one else in the castle, child or adult, would have dared to cast such an expression in her direction, and she was intrigued.

"Did you come here to read?" she asked as she approached him.

"Is not read. I go here to hide," he answered. His accent was thick, but his words were clear. In his voice Zelda recognized the intonation of someone who had been carefully instructed on how to speak in front of others.

He lowered his book, and Zelda was able to get a good look at his face. When she saw the large topaz stone adorning the diadem circling his forehead, she realized that this must be the Gerudo prince her mother had told her about. Her mother considered the Gerudo queen to be a special friend, and she had been excited that Zelda would finally be able to meet the queen's son, Ganondorf. When the queen had been presented during the previous evening's court, however, there had been no children accompanying her.

"Where were you last night?" Zelda asked him, taking it for granted that he would understand what she meant.

"Was bad. The food is..." The boy clutched his stomach to mime sickness.

"How _rude_ ," Zelda chided him, unable to help herself.

He shrugged and pointed at her. "Food is bad for you also, are too skinny."

For some reason this statement struck Zelda as unbearably silly. She started giggling, and the boy smiled at her.

"Our mothers are still at the luncheon. Do you want to go play outside while we wait for them?"

This was the first time Zelda had ever offered such an invitation. To her delight, Ganondorf accepted, and she had led him to the inner garden, all the while peppering him with questions just to listen to the way he used words. Within the hour he had grown impatient with Hylian and started to speak to her in Gerudo, and when the two of them were found sitting on the grass of the inner garden and braiding clover stems into chains their conversation was an equal mixture of their languages. Both of them found the other's way of speaking infinitely amusing.

It seemed that their mothers were always together, and there wasn't much room for children in the intimate space they created between themselves. The interruption of the queen's schedule affected Zelda's own, and during the Gerudos' visit she was mostly left to her own devices. She naturally gravitated toward Ganondorf, who also had little to do other than kill time while roaming around the castle. They played hide and seek in the hedges, chatted endlessly about inconsequential things next to each other at formal state dinners, and went on small adventures in the lonelier areas of the castle during the long summer afternoons.

Zelda smiled as she recalled these memories. "We were good friends," she said to Ganondorf, who was gazing at her with the slightly unsettling intensity that she had come to expect from him.

"Our _mothers_ were good friends," he responded, as if correcting her. "But they never should have become so close. There cannot be true friendship between people who can never be equals."

Zelda recalled the way that the two women had spoken to and smiled at each other, and she shook her head. "I don't think your mother was subservient to mine in any way. And I don't think your position is subservient to mine, even if we are in my castle," she added. "It's been too long since we sat down and talked to one another. Why don't you join me for tea tomorrow afternoon? I hope it won't be an imposition."

"An imposition? Hardly," Ganondorf scoffed. "Is an invitation from the crown princess ever an imposition?"

Zelda decided not to respond to his implication that she had just issued an order. That had not been her intention, but a certain stubbornness kept her from correcting him.

"So you'll join me, then?"

Instead of answering her, Ganondorf raised his hand toward her. Zelda stiffened, but he reached past her shoulder to pluck one of the silent princesses from its vine.

"If I must join you, then I will," he said lightly. He met her eyes and then dropped his gaze to the flower in his hands. Zelda glanced down and watched him squeeze the stem above his palm. When a drop of the poisonous sap fell onto his skin, she flinched. She looked back up at Ganondorf, but he was still regarding the silent princess contemplatively.

"But I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that Hylian tea is not to my taste."

Zelda swallowed and resisted the urge to bite her lip. If Ganondorf knew the Sheikah name of this flower, then he must know how deadly it was, but surely he could not be suggesting that she would try to poison him.

"Perhaps I could take tea with you," she offered.

"Hylians do enjoy taking things, don't they," he replied, surprising her with his boldness.

"Ganondorf. It doesn't have to be this way between us. Why don't you tell me what you want to say?"

"Plainly speaking?"

"Yes," she insisted. "Please consider me a friend, as your mother was a friend of my own."

"Fine, then know this – As your kingdom rises, Princess, mine can only fall."

"That's preposterous, Ganondorf. Hyrule has no ill intentions toward the Gerudo, and your people are famously wealthy. Besides, if you truly believe that, then why did you come here?"

"Did I have a choice? Surely I don't need to tell you how it would look if my people failed to send an emissary to your coronation."

"No, I mean, I understand that," Zelda said in frustration, "but if you hate me and my kingdom so much, why did you come _here_ , to this garden?"

Ganondorf seemed taken aback. "I don't hate Hyrule," he muttered, looking away from her. Zelda glanced down and watched him twist the stem of the silent princess around his finger in agitation.

"And I don't hate you either," he continued. "It's just that it's difficult for me, here in your castle. I sometimes feel that every room is haunted by the memory of my mother, and I wanted to go to a place that I don't associate with her. I remember, the last time I was here we read an old book together, something about magic. I seem to recall that you had a fascination with wizards."

Zelda was perplexed. How could Ganondorf speak of such personal matters in practically the same breath as he accused her kingdom of oppressing his own? She didn't know what to make of the situation, or of Ganondorf himself. Nevertheless, she did her best to salvage the conversation.

"I used to love stories about wizards," she admitted, "but they lost their luster when I realized that I have no talent for magic myself. The gift is supposed to run in my family, but it's never come easily to me."

"Magic doesn't come naturally to anyone," Ganondorf replied. "It's not the sort of thing that's supposed to come easily. You have to work at it, constantly."

"So you're able to use magic?" Zelda asked.

"I am."

"Then show me," she demanded. "I'd like to see it." She was a bit shocked by her own forwardness, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

"It would be my pleasure," Ganondorf said, smiling. He took a deep breath, released it, and began humming a simple melody. Each of the notes created a strange resonance in her heart, almost as if she had heard this song somewhere before.

Within seconds, a warm wind began circling through the garden, catching fallen leaves and flower petals and sending them up into tiny spirals. The wind also carried the subtle smell of the incense burned into Ganondorf's clothing as it blew across Zelda's face, striking her with a fierce pang of nostalgia for the brief time in which her days and hours had been her own.

The sky had grown vibrant with the hues of the setting sun, and Zelda knew she would have to excuse herself soon. She had only come here for a breath of fresh air after her afternoon audiences, and she still had a number of documents that she needed to return to her secretaries before she began to prepare for the evening court. She was scheduled to be fitted for another gown, so she had even less time than usual.

And yet she allowed herself to stand quietly as Ganondorf continued to hum, the wind he summoned dancing through the garden. It occurred to her that he had sought her out here, just as he had before the dance yesterday evening, just he had the other morning in front of the library; just as she had continually sought him out when they were children. Perhaps this is what they did for each other, something that they could not do for themselves – together they found time to be no one other than themselves, if only for a few moments before they returned to the court and reassumed the weight of the responsibilities of their positions.


	11. A More Enlightened Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda travels through time to an era of magic, where she encounters a powerful wizard and bears witness to the fall of a terrible tower.

A short letter from Ruto was discreetly passed to Zelda later that evening.

 _We're having a bit of trouble with the big fish_ , Ruto wrote with her usual irreverence, _but it's nothing we can't handle_.

Zelda folded the letter neatly down the middle, disfiguring the paper and indicating that it should be burned. She spoke a few brief sentences of polite concern to the messenger, requesting that he compose a reply in her stead. Ruto deserved a lengthier response, but the Great Hall was not the place to dictate it.

It was as the Zora at Telma's Bar had said; something was amiss with Lord Jabun. Ruto had grown up serving as a handmaiden to the Zora's tutelary deity, and Zelda had no doubt that she would indeed be able to handle any trouble on her own. Nevertheless, she was concerned; a being like Jabun does not simply fall ill. Even with her limited knowledge of such matters, Zelda understood that only drastic environmental change could have affected the ancient demigod – that, or magic whose like had not been recorded for hundreds of years.

Zelda rose early the next morning. She was in no mood to linger in her chambers. Once again she had dreamed of dark clouds billowing out over Hyrule. There were brilliant flashes of lightning in her nightmare, and fires racing across the plains. Above a sea of roiling black ash rose the thick white line of a colossal tower. Zelda's dream felt as real as anything she had ever experienced, and the memory of the pale tower standing in stark contrast to the violent red of the sky remained clear in her mind when she woke.

Sleep did not return to her, and she finally allowed herself to leave her bed when the first fingers of dawn touched the horizon. She dressed quickly and piled her hair in a loose bun, too distracted to make an effort with braids or pins. She would ask one of her personal attendants to put it up properly before breakfast, but before then she wanted at least an hour to herself in the library. She had to write to Ruto, but she needed to learn more about Lord Jabun. What was it, exactly? Where did it come from? What purpose did it serve, and why would anyone wish to harm it?

Once she got the library, Zelda selected a few relevant books from the shelves, but she was unable to concentrate. More people were arriving at court every day, and she had been kept busy with greetings and introductions. She'd already met many of the people who traveled to attend her coronation, but this was the first time she had the opportunity to speak to them as an adult. As she made small talk with various nobles and dignitaries over the past week, she began to better understand her role at the courts called by her father. These events were about politics, certainly, but the real business of state was largely the domain of the king and his council. Zelda would soon be elevated to the same position of responsibility, but on the cusp of her ascension she was expected to gather information from the ritual exchange of pleasantries, and she was scheduled to make a report on the intelligence she had received to her father later this afternoon. She did not mind this work, whose challenges she rather enjoyed, but the constant demands on her attention had gradually grown exhausting. The nightly courts were rendered even more difficult by the need to balance amiable approachability and polite distance in her interactions with her potential suitors. Her conversations with these men might have been a bit easier if she were in a flirtatious mood, but no one had caught her eye.

As she stared through the library window into the courtyard garden, flipping the barrel of her pen between her fingers, Zelda found herself thinking of Ganondorf. He had never said anything to her on the subject, but she supposed it must be difficult for him to be the only man in a tribe of women. _If only I had that problem_ , she thought, smiling to herself. There were a few women on the parliament that represented the concerns of Castle Town to the throne, but the members of her father's council were entirely male, as was the council of Sheikah elders.

Zelda mused that it might be interesting to ask Ganondorf for his opinion on the matter, but she hadn't managed to make concrete plans with him during their encounter yesterday afternoon. She resolved to have a short note delivered to him after she finished her letter to Ruto, but she couldn't manage to bring herself to start writing.

Even though it was one of her favorite places, the library felt stuffy and airless. During the past two weeks, Zelda had begun to feel a bit claustrophobic everywhere in the castle. There was nothing keeping her from clearing her schedule for a day to go riding, just as there was nothing keeping her from disguising herself as Impaz and venturing out into Castle Town for a night of frivolous amusement. In fact, she probably owed herself some time to unwind before her coronation, especially since she would be even more anchored to the castle once she became a queen. Before she allowed herself to relax, however, she had to get this strange business with Ganondorf sorted out, the sooner the better.

Zelda hadn't been able to figure out a secure hiding place for her mother's ocarina, so she continued to carry it in her satchel. Thinking of the song that Ganondorf hummed in the inner garden yesterday afternoon, she took out the ocarina and held it in a beam of sunlight as she tapped her fingers against the edges of the holes in its cerulean body.

 _Wouldn't it be nice to get some wind in here? Someone should really dust this place every once in a while_ , she thought.

Zelda's mother hadn't enjoyed reading, nor had she any use for books, so the library had gone almost entirely unused during her reign. Her father read, probably more than anyone else she knew, but the library in his chambers was private, and Zelda learned at a young age that not even she was allowed to spend time there. Members of the nobility and the wealthy social climbers who associated with them had once hired specialists to build their libraries for them, but that particular display of wealth had gone out of fashion now that many books were printed by machine and thus available to the masses.

 _This library belongs to another time_ , Zelda reflected. Of course, the same could be said of the castle itself. It had its use as a gathering space, as the nightly courts demonstrated, but the center of power was slowly shifting to Castle Town, where salons and social gatherings were held in newly constructed and richly appointed private homes. If things continued in this manner, Zelda might be the last monarch to hold court in the castle itself. As it was, her father was engaging in something of a gamble by limiting the activities relating to her coronation to the castle instead of allowing her to attend the parties held in the growing city outside its walls.

 _How ridiculous Ganondorf is for thinking Hyrule is a threat. He believes the Gerudo should fear the royal family, when all the while we're wrapped up in our own battle to hold our position. The king is little more than the head of an army, but what use are soldiers when there are no enemies to fight? One day the wealth of the ambitious may buy us all_ , Zelda thought, raising the ocarina to her lips. She wondered if perhaps she herself might live to see the monarchy fall, but she resolved to put the thought from her mind as she blew into the mouthpiece.

After a few false starts, she found the opening notes of Ganondorf's song, and from there the melody seemed to flow from her fingertips. Zelda could feel a faint breeze lifting the fringes of her hair when she was hit by a powerful sense of vertigo. She realized that she was on the verge of having another vision, so she closed her eyes and allowed the tide of her dizziness to surge and then ebb away.

When Zelda opened her eyes, she could see a white tower in the distance rising above black clouds into a red sky like a scream. She had a brief flash of déjà vu and wondered where she could have possibly seen something like this, but then the memory of her nightmare struck her like a fist to her gut. Within the span of a heartbeat, her disorientation turned to dread.

Zelda could still feel the weight of the ocarina in her hand, and it comforted her to know that she could return to her own time if anything happened. Since there was nothing else to be done, she reasoned that she may as well take stock of her surroundings.

She took a deep breath as she tucked the ocarina into a loose fold of fabric at her waist. She marveled that she could see the tower over the top of the clouds and realized that she must be looking down at it from an extremely high vantage point. She turned and glanced upwards, gasping as she realized that she was standing on a balcony emerging from a massive building constructed of smooth pale stone. The walls were covered in vast windows framed within ornamental crystal latticework. The scale of the structure was almost incomprehensibly large, and it was beautiful.

The circular door leading out onto the balcony was surrounded by stylized carvings suggesting vines and flowers, and at its apex was a large Triforce. There were several such symbols adorning her own castle, but it had gone out of fashion decades ago. Her father occasionally wore old regalia bearing the Triforce, but for the most part it did not grace his clothing – or her own, for that matter. It was superstitious nonsense, her father had once remarked, adding that it was an unwelcome reminder of feudal traditions best forgotten.

Zelda looked down at herself and saw that she wore a shimmering white gown. She transferred her weight from one foot to the other, and the hue of her skirt shifted as if it had been spun of mother of pearl. She held her arms in front of her and was dazzled by her sleeves, which seemed to be embroidered with pure light in a motif of scaled triangles. The edges of her sleeves were linked to her middle fingers by silver rings as bright as small stars. The fabric of her dress was as smooth as silk, but the slight tingle on her skin suggested to Zelda that it was woven with magic.

 _Can this be really be Hyrule?_ Zelda wondered. _Am I seeing the future?_

Just beyond the tips of her fingers, Zelda could see a glowing geometric pattern of interlocking circles materialize in front of the doorway. At first she thought that it was an effect of the light shining through the latticework framing one of the large windows, but as it grew stronger she realized that what she was seeing was magic.

Within a few seconds, the pattern of light materialized into the figure of a man wearing armor as dark as the night sky. Like the fabric of her sleeves, its metal plates were adorned with softly glowing lines. While her clothing was beautiful in its perfectly aligned angles, however, his was a mess of swirls and spirals. The man's face was deeply lined, and he appeared to be somewhat past the prime of middle age, but she recognized him immediately.

"Ganondorf?"

To her surprise, the man nodded. "Good morning, Zelda. Are you well?" he responded pleasantly.

He spoke to her in an unfamiliar language, yet she was able to understand him. Even more astonishing was that he had answered to the name Ganondorf before addressing her with a word that needed no translation – her own name. She waited for the woman whose body she inhabited to reply to him, but no words came. It seemed that she was once again on her own.

"What could possibly be good about this?" she asked him bluntly, taking it for granted that she was speaking in the language of this era. If she was a princess, she may as well act like one. She gathered her courage and added, "It looks like the entire world is on fire."

"Is that not what happens during war?" The man shrugged, and she was momentarily mesmerized by the way his movement altered the patterns on his armor.

Zelda didn't know who she was, or where she was, or, most importantly, when she was. Just as in her earlier vision, she had arrived in the midst of some sort of terrible war, but the man who answered to the name Ganondorf seemed perfectly at ease in her presence. Was she his captive, or were they somehow partners in the destruction raging below them?

"I need you to tell me what's going on," she ordered, taking her chances that he was not hostile.

"My forces were able to make a significant advance over the night," he explained, walking forward to join her at the balcony railing. "The tower has almost fallen."

"I don't understand," she said, looking up at him as he came to stand at her side. "Why does the tower need to fall?"

"To be frank, I've asked myself that question many times before. Wouldn't it be enough to take this castle? Why not simply undo the spells supporting the tower and let it rot into the earth? Of course it's in my best interests to secure the complete surrender of your armies, and Nayru only knows why they decided to make their last stand there of all places. It's not exactly defensible, and I'd give their efforts a few days at most, even if the magic guarding the tower were at its full strength."

He sighed before continuing. "I suppose it's the principle of the thing. My days in Hyrule are numbered, but I'd prefer not to have to look at that monument to death while I'm still here."

Zelda was silent as she processed this information. Ganondorf had apparently attacked her kingdom and seized this building, which he had called her castle. She seemed to be his prisoner, yet he spoke to her as casually as if they had been discussing the weather. She glanced at him and saw that his posture was relaxed. The gaps in his armor provided numerous openings that could be taken advantage of by a deftly applied blade. Did he underestimate her, or was it rather that he trusted her? She wondered what this man's relationship to her might be, but she could see no way to make such an inquiry.

"What do you mean, your days in Hyrule are numbered?" she asked instead.

"I have no doubt that your hero will arrive soon. I'll give him a good show, but you know as well as I do that I can't win against the two of you together. That's not how this story goes, is it?"

"What story?"

"The only story: an evil wizard attacks the kingdom of the beautiful princess and holds her hostage in her own castle. Since your people do me the honor of calling me 'Ganon,' I may as well live up to the name. What sort of demon king would I be otherwise?"

He looked down at her and grinned. Despite herself, Zelda found that she enjoyed talking with this man, and he seemed to enjoy talking with her as well. It was rare that someone so urbane spoke to her with such honesty. He behaved as if answering her questions were something of a game, so she decided to keep pressing him.

"So you're an evil wizard?"

"Of course. What else would I be?"

"Doesn't that keep you busy, waging a war and practicing magic at the same time?"

"Why in Din's blessed name would I need to practice magic?"

"I thought magic was something that required constant work and effort."

"Constant work and effort? Hardly."

"Does magic really come so easily to you?"

"Magic only requires effort for the people in the border colonies whom your kingdom doesn't see fit to train properly."

"So you were trained to perform magic?" Zelda asked. She felt guilty about not pursuing the matter of the border colonies he mentioned, but she found that she was genuinely curious about how one went about learning magic.

"No. I was not trained," he answered coldly, his voice losing its patina of joviality. "At least, not in the way you were. But my people have their own traditions, and I have certain gifts of my own."

Ganondorf raised his hand as leisurely as if he were greeting an old acquaintance, and suddenly the air was filled with an electric charge so strong that Zelda could taste it on her tongue. She prepared to defend herself, but she saw that Ganondorf was regarding the tower with an intense ferocity, his lips pulled back to expose his teeth. She followed his gaze just in time to witness a thick arc of lightning strike the tower in the distance. The flash in the sky was followed by a rolling boom of thunder, and the dark clouds covering the land began to twist and swirl.

Zelda could feel the flow of the power emanating from Ganondorf, and it was intoxicating. She understood that the armor he wore was merely for show, and that no assassin's blade could ever harm him. With his talent and ability, he could have anything he wanted; he could be a god among mortals. What need did he have to fight her?

When she was certain that she could speak calmly, she asked, "Why do you want to destroy the tower?"

Ganondorf continued to watch the dark clouds swirl in a slow vortex as he answered her. "Hyrule is a land blessed above all others," he said. "It is filled with magic that enhances its rich land and gentle climate. And yet you direct this energy into unnatural channels; you insist on binding it to the elite within your unholy temples. Anyone who resists you is wiped off the face of the earth. Since your people settled here, countless races have been destroyed so completely that not even their names remain. That hideous obelisk is a warning to anyone who dreams of a world that is not utterly dominated by Hylians."

He clenched his fists against the balustrade. Zelda glanced down at his hands, whose heavy gauntlets bore a curious crest that shone with a furious crimson light.

"And that is why the Tower of Hylia must be destroyed," Ganondorf continued in a softer voice. "The beliefs that built it must be destroyed. It does not matter if we were born in the castle or born in the colonies; we are all the children of the goddesses. I must fight, and soon I must die, so that people will understand this. So that _you_ will understand this. I can bring down that tower, but it is you who must dismantle this castle."

Ganondorf looked at her with a fierce yearning in his eyes. Zelda recognized the expression on his face; it was same look the enemy general of her previous vision had directed at her as he gazed up at her from the carnage he had created. This man was capable of terrible things, but he was not her enemy.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head as she turned away from him. "I don't understand. Please give me more time."

With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked across the balcony and into the castle. Once she was inside, she barely noticed the wonders surrounding her as she fumbled for the ocarina, hoping against hope that it would return her to an age where she did not doubt herself and everything once again made sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This illustration is by the glorious and magnificent [Lightsintheskye](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/)!


	12. The Eyes of the Beholders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two invitations are offered and accepted while strange things happen outside the castle.

When Zelda returned to herself, she was once again in the familiar library of her own time. A moment later, a gust of wind blew through the room, lifting the pages of her stationery from the dusty surface of the table in front of her. She clamped her hand down on the paper to keep it from flying off, almost dropping the ocarina in the process. As she moved, the fabric of her clothing felt rough against her skin.

Her nightmare of the white tower had filled her with trepidation and caused her to wake in a cold sweat, but she had received an entirely different impression when she saw it with her own eyes; the destruction had been strangely beautiful. Now the library felt stuffier and more claustrophobic than ever. She desperately wanted to know where to find the tower within the history of Hyrule, but she yearned for the open sky.

Zelda gathered her unfinished letters and stuffed them haphazardly into her satchel as she got up to leave. She wanted to resume her conversation with Impa, but even more than that she wanted to go outside. An hour or two of riding in the forested hills to the north of the castle was just the thing she needed to clear her mind.

She paced out of the library, not even pausing to make sure that the old oak doors didn't bang shut behind her. As soon as she entered the hallway she saw Ganondorf walking toward her. He raised his hand in a greeting.

"Zelda! I'm glad I was able to catch you!" he called out.

Ganondorf was dressed in his usual dark colors, but his face was as fresh as the dawn. He seemed energetic despite the early hour. Unsure of how to address him after what she had just seen, Zelda stood still and waited for him to come to her. _How dare he speak to me in such a cavalier manner_ , a voice hissed in the back of her mind, but she silenced it. As she had told Ganondorf in the garden yesterday afternoon, he was her equal, and there was no need for him to bow to her. It was rare for anyone to demand her attention this early in the morning, but her resentment at the intrusion on her privacy was mixed with curiosity over why he had sought her out.

And there was something else keeping her in place, an almost electric current between them. Even if she had wanted to, she could not look away from him.

"Would you like to go riding later?" he asked her with no prelude as he approached. "Barghest told me that it's been weeks since your horse has gotten any proper exercise."

Barghest? It took Zelda a moment to place the name before she realized that Ganondorf was referring to the stable master. She had so rarely saw him speak to anyone, and the familiar way he used the Darknut's name gave her little context. She supposed that it would make sense for Ganondorf not to have been idle during the time he'd spent in her castle, and she found that she was interested to learn what he had been doing.

"I would love to," she answered. She had obligations, but they could be delegated. It struck her as only natural that Ganondorf's desire to leave the castle echoed her own.

"I was hoping you would agree," he said. "I'm not used to spending this much time indoors, and I've been looking for an excuse to explore more of the area around the castle. I heard it from a reliable source that no one knows the northern forest better than you."

A reliable source? "Did Link tell you that?" she asked, remembering how he'd once teased her about spending so much time riding that he worried she had gotten herself lost.

"He did," Ganondorf confirmed. "And he should know. He's an excellent rider. I think he might even be able to compete with the Gerudo. I haven't had much of an opportunity to speak with him, but I wouldn't be surprised if he's spent some time in the desert."

Like the man in her vision, Ganondorf spoke calmly and pleasantly, with poise and confidence. Her encounters with him during the past few days had been strained, to say the least, but he was royalty, and he had probably received elocution training similar to her own. Zelda watched his face carefully, searching for traces of the wizard – a twist of his eyebrows, or a hint of a scowl at the corner of his lips. What she saw instead were the fine lines already forming around his mouth and eyes. She mapped the wizard's face onto Ganondorf's, and she could easily imagine what he would look like decades from now. He was actually quite handsome, she decided.

Zelda wasn't used to studying people's faces, and it took her a moment to realize that Ganondorf had stopped speaking in order to watch her look at him. She dropped her eyes, simultaneously embarrassed and frustrated by her shame. After all, a princess should be able to look at whomever she pleases.

Glancing down from his face, she noticed that he was wearing a sash at the waist of his tunic. It was dyed with a circular pattern that she had seen before. At first she couldn't remember where, but in a second it flashed into her head. This was the same pattern that had been engraved in red pulsing light on the gauntlets of the wizard in her vision.

"That pattern, on your sash," she ventured. "What does that symbol mean?"

"It's the crest of the Gerudo, although it's not used much these days," he responded. "Some people say it represents the false eyes on the back of the king cobra, a poisonous snake that lives in the wastes beyond the city walls. Some people say that it represents the divine eyes of the golden sand goddess, who sees everything that happens under the sun. And some people say that it represents the wide eyes of the Gerudo dragonfly, swarms of which gather in the oases along our trade routes."

"Now that you mention it," Zelda said, suddenly remembering, "I seem to recall that your mother once wore a hair ornament with the same crest, with golden hairpins in place of wings."

"She did." Ganondorf nodded. "The crest also represents of a deep bond between two people, with each being a part of and balancing the other, as two eyes create perspective on a single face. I believe it was actually the late queen who gave that set of jewels to my mother."

"I see," Zelda said simply, not knowing how to respond. Her mother had been very close friends with his, but the way he described the crest seemed more like a symbol of marriage.

"Anyway." Ganondorf looked away, perhaps sensing the awkwardness of his explanation. "Your hair looks good this morning. I like it when it's down like that."

"When it's down?" Zelda ran a hand over her head and realized that her hair had fallen half out of its bun at some point. She was mortified that she had been caught in such a state of disarray, and by Ganondorf of all people.

"I'm sorry. I have some correspondence to attend to. Please excuse me." Zelda dipped her chin in apology and began to turn away before Ganondorf caught her with his next words.

"So I'll see you at the stable after your afternoon audiences?"

Despite herself, Zelda smiled. "I'll be there," she said.

▲      ▲      ▲

When Zelda returned to her rooms, Impa was in the antechamber, perched on an overstuffed chair and polishing a long dagger. The blade glinted in a ray of light that fell through a slit in the room's heavy curtains, which had not yet been drawn.

"Good morning, Impa," Zelda greeted her. "Could you possibly look more sinister? I don't think you're quite scary enough to frighten off my attendants."

Impa grinned as she spun the knife around her fingers. "It helps me relax," she replied, shrugging her shoulders before hiding the weapon in a discrete sheaf at her waist.

Zelda sat down on an ottoman. "I'm glad you're here," she said as she undid the small band holding her loose bun. She began to comb her hair with her fingers. "I wanted to ask you – do you know anything about a tower?"

"A tower?"

"An enormous white one with smooth walls like a lighthouse, and not too far from the castle."

"An enormous tower right in the middle of Hyrule?" Impa leaned back into her chair and steepled her fingers in front of her face as she searched her memory. Zelda waited patiently, relieved that Impa did not question her motive for asking.

"I think I remember an old story," Impa finally said. "Very long ago, so far back that even the Sheikah records are nothing more than legends, there was something called the Tower of the Gods. It was supposed to be a symbol of Hylia's covenant with her people and her promise that she would always protect them from evil."

"Evil?" Zelda frowned. Hylia was a goddess of light and order, which she brought with her everywhere she graced with her presence. She was not associated with anything dark or threatening, and she certainly wasn't associated with war. "What sort of evil?"

"If I'm recalling the story correctly, I believe the tower was located on the site of a great battle immediately preceding the founding of your kingdom. A demon was sealed within the earth, and it needed to be destroyed before the land could be consecrated. A hero fought and defeated it, and Hylia gave him and his descendants her blessing, marking their right to the land by building a tower so tall that it served as a bridge to the sky."

"Although I have to warn you," Impa added with a wry grin, "the same story holds that the Hylians once lived on islands floating in the clouds, so you may want to take it with a grain of salt. And no such tower is still around today, obviously. If such a structure really existed, I can't even begin to imagine what sort of force could have destroyed it so thoroughly that there aren't even any ruins. The whole thing seems so farfetched that I never paid any attention, so I'd have to ask one of the elders to make sure I'm getting the details right."

"Please do," Zelda said softly, remembering the ozone crackle in the air as the wizard in her vision had summoned a bolt of lightning.

Impa sat back up and clapped her hands on her knees. "In the meantime," she said, "I came to ask if any messages were delivered overnight. Have you heard back from Ruto?"

"I... haven't had a chance to write to her yet."

"Then you can write to her while I braid your hair. You look like you were standing outside in the middle of a windstorm."

"Is this urgent? Did something happen?"

"I would say so. I heard a troubling bit of information last night from Kaepora."

Zelda took a deep breath. Her father had inherited Kaepora as an advisor from her grandfather. Although the Sheikah elder was still of sound body and mind, he was older than anyone she knew, and he terrified her with his masklike face. If he had let something slip within Impa's earshot, then he had done so deliberately, and it couldn't possibly be good news.

"It seems that one of the Goron mines has become infested with dodongos," Impa said, gesturing for Zelda to turn around.

Zelda did as she wished, putting her back to Impa so that she could pleat her hair.

"Aren't dodongos gentle? Or at least not a threat to Gorons?" she objected.

"That's usually the case," Impa agreed. "If they're becoming more aggressive, this must mean that something is bothering Volvagia. First Jabun and now this? There seems to be a pattern."

"I think we need more information before we can come to any sort of conclusion," Zelda said. She glanced back at Impa over her shoulder. "I wonder what Telma has to say about this."

"As do I. Let's go out tonight, shall we?" Impa responded, winking at Zelda as she began to comb her hair. "If nothing else, I could use a drink."

"Say, Impa?" Zelda spoke up after a minute or two had passed in companionable silence.

"Yes?"

"I have a strange question."

"Stranger than your question about a mythical tower?" Impa teased.

"This is something I've wondered for a while now," Zelda admitted. "The Sheikah crest represents an eye, supposedly since the Sheikah warriors have sworn themselves to serve as the eyes of Hyrule. But why is there only one eye? Wouldn't it make more sense for there to be two? In order to have a greater depth of perspective?"

"That's an interesting question," Impa replied, "but I don't think it has any special meaning for there to be only one eye. Instead of worrying about arcane Sheikah lore, why don't you get started on that letter to Ruto?"

"You're right. I've put it off too long," Zelda agreed. She knew that Impa had deflected her question with an almost insulting lack of subtlety, but she decided to let it slide. She already had enough mysteries to puzzle over, and she could trust no one if she didn't trust Impa.


	13. Of Monarchs and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda reflects on recent shifts in the balance of power in Hyrule and has an intriguing conversation with Ganondorf about magic.

The sun was already low in the sky as Zelda walked across the training yard. The execution of her duties had taken longer than usual, and it didn't help that she'd been repeatedly interrupted by people wishing to consult with her regarding the preparations for her coronation.

On top of that, Castle Town was quickly becoming flooded with travelers, which was causing its own set of problems. The contractors who had been hired to help handle the overflow of people needed constant direction, and the city council was apparently content to allow the castle to shoulder the burdens of security, lodging, and waste disposal on its own. Zelda had a team of secretaries who reported directly to the city ministries, but there were no protocols in place for this magnitude of royal event. Her staff was overburdened, and Zelda would have felt guilty if she didn't contribute her proper share of the work.

If nothing else, she was acquiring a thorough education in her kingdom's byzantine legal system. Even without this recent influx of visitors, the population of Castle Town had been steadily increasing since she began taking on administrative duties five years ago. Zoning issues were a constant thorn in her side, as she could not simply order that something as simple yet necessary as a new road be built. Anything larger, such as a bridge or a quay, required massive amounts of paperwork. There were a multitude of regulations governing such construction, and everything needed to be carefully checked, negotiated, and certified.

Even at a young age Zelda had understood that the executive administration of her kingdom could not be the responsibility of one person. A century ago, when both Hyrule's population and its economy were smaller, there would have only been one monarch, and this person would have held absolute authority. Most princesses married ambitious men who had proven themselves capable of overseeing the kingdom from the throne, and it would have been unheard of for a princess of marriageable age to be crowned as a queen to rule alongside her father.

The sole exception had been the dark-haired woman whose portrait hung outside the library, who was known to history as "the virgin queen." She had strongly discouraged any suitors who sought to wrest control of the throne from her grasp, and she had never married. If the details of Zelda's vision were correct, however, then this woman had been engaged while she was still a princess. Perhaps she never would have risen to such political and cultural prominence if her husband had taken the throne instead. It might even be the case that the warlord who had beheaded her fiancé in a "token of his goodwill," as he called it, had done her a favor.

Zelda's own mother had ascended the throne at seventeen due to the ill health of her parents, and she had ruled by herself for a good fifteen years without marrying. It was only in her early thirties that she began to grow concerned about producing an heir, so she married Zelda's father under the condition that their authority be evenly divided. Daphnes was the son of a noble family that controlled a small but growing port town on Hyrule's southeastern shore, and Zelda suspected that her mother had agreed to marry him just as much for the economic gain he represented as for his gentle temperament.

Once she married, Zelda's mother devoted more of her time to traveling through the kingdom. She also began spending more time in the company of the Gerudo queen. According to the unkind gossip Zelda heard as a young girl, her mother had been more than happy to leave the new king to fend for himself in Hyrule. Zelda was certain there was more to the story, but she knew better than to ask her father. All of this was in the past, and both women were gone. Whatever bitterness she felt, and whatever lingering resentment Ganondorf might still feel, there was nothing to be done about it.

It was more than two hours past the time when her afternoon audiences were supposed to have ended, and Zelda didn't know if Ganondorf would still be waiting for her. Even if he wasn't, she had every intention of seeking him out. He had been so much in her thoughts during the day that it was difficult to concentrate on anything. After the astounding vision she had seen that morning, she was unable to dismiss him from her mind. Surely it couldn't have been a coincidence that he appeared in the hallway outside the library immediately after she had engaged in such an intense conversation with the wizard of a bygone age.

Perhaps it was some sort of sign, but Zelda wasn't sure that she believed in such things. She had experienced prophetic dreams ever since she was a child. When she had seen something in a vision, however, she had seen it clearly; there was never any interpretation involved. The gift of second sight supposedly ran in the bloodline of the women of the royal family, but any discussion of this ability made her father uncomfortable, and her mother always changed the subject when she tried to ask questions. Before she learned never to mention her dreams to anyone, the only person who had taken her seriously was Ganondorf. Still, she couldn't very well ask him to help her interpret what she saw during the time she had been displaced in history. The fact that these visions were so intensely focused on him was embarrassing enough, and what would she even say? Asking whether he was currently entertaining any notions of burning Hyrule to the ground didn't seem as if it would go over well.

Zelda caught sight of Barghest standing in the shadow of the eaves of one of the stable buildings. He was speaking to another Darknut. Based on what she could pick up, they seemed to be talking to each other in their own language, which Zelda had never been taught and never had a chance to learn for herself. Darknuts used to be a relatively common sight around the castle, but in recent days it was rare to see any of them other than Barghest. She always meant to ask him about this, but something had held her back; it seemed rude, somehow.

Barghest noticed her walking across the yard, gave a small wave, and pointed to one of the outer stables without breaking his conversation. Zelda nodded in acknowledgment and headed for the building he indicated.

Inside, Ganondorf was standing next to the largest horse she had ever seen. Its coat was pure black, while its mane and tail were a deep shade of russet. Ganondorf was carefully combing out a tangle in its hair while humming a song. His voice was soft, but it was so quiet in the stables that Zelda could hear him clearly. She paused to listen to the melody, which was calm and soothing. Ganondorf's back was to her, and he gave no indication that he heard her footsteps as she entered.

"This must be one of the fabled Gerudo horses I've heard so much about," Zelda finally spoke up. "I never thought they would actually be so huge."

"Zelda! I'm happy you could join me," Ganondorf said as he turned toward her. On his face was a smile of genuine pleasure.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," Zelda apologized. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"I know how these things go," Ganondorf responded. "Right before I came here I had to sit through a tariff negotiation with a party of Goron merchants. It was supposed to take two hours, but it ended up lasting the better part of two days. That's always the way of it, isn't it? I planned on you being late."

"I heard that dodongos have recently infested one of the Goron mines," Zelda remarked as casually as she could.

"Infested? That's a strange choice of words."

"How so?"

"I was under the impression that dodongos lived in all of those mountain tunnels, but I've never heard anyone complain about them."

"I guess you're right," Zelda conceded. The bite of a dodongo could be fatal to a Hylian, but it would only break its teeth on a Goron's stony skin. "I can't imagine that a dodongo could hurt a Goron, no matter how hard it tried. Then again, I expect they might cause trouble if they've been swarming."

"I'm not an expert, but it could just be their breeding season." Ganondorf shrugged as he turned back to comb out the last tangles at the ends of his horse's mane. "We have that problem with moldugas every two or three years."

Zelda had no idea what a molduga was, but she didn't want the conversation to get away from her before she finished asking questions about the disturbances in the Gorons' territory. "I've heard people saying that there must be something bothering Volvagia," she continued. "There have been so many eruptions lately. Perhaps the tremors are upsetting the dodongos?"

"Those minor eruptions are a natural geological process," Ganondorf said as he offered a large sugar cube to his horse, who took it from his fingers with an unusual degree of delicacy. "There are Gorons in other lands, and there's always a steady trickle of their naturalists passing through the desert to study Death Mountain. They say that live volcanos are rare outside of Hyrule, so Death Mountain has become a reliable source of data for them. The volcano has been unusually active lately, but it's ridiculous to believe that its activity is caused by a dragon."

"But wouldn't it make sense for the Gorons to be afraid of Volvagia's wrath?" Zelda asked, thinking of Jabun. According to Ruto, the Zora's tutelary deity was notoriously temperamental and could become quite violent when upset. It seemed only natural for a lava-dwelling dragon to be just as irascible, especially since the Gorons made a point of keeping their distance from it. "I've even heard rumors that it eats Gorons," she added, remembering something she had once heard a Goron father say to his son.

"Volvagia eats Gorons? I'd like to see it try," Ganondorf chuckled. "That would be like one of us swallowing an entire hydromelon. It would do more harm to the dragon than to the Goron."

"You're awfully knowledgeable about the Gorons," Zelda remarked.

"The Gerudo have always had a close relationship with the Gorons. They provide the raw materials for our metalwork, and we provide them with safe passage through the desert."

"Do you visit Death Mountain often?"

"Not often, but occasionally. Why do you ask?"

Ganondorf's tone was mellow, and both he and his horse were so relaxed that she decided to go ahead and ask him about what she needed to know. If Ganondorf had nothing to do with the disturbances in the Zora and Goron domains, then there would be no harm done. If he were guilty of some wrongdoing, he might become upset, but he could do nothing to her here.

"It's been brought to my attention that there have been sightings of a Gerudo man on Death Mountain within the past two weeks," Zelda said, deciding not to dwell on the fact that what she heard had only been a rumor. "I only know of one Gerudo man, but it couldn't have possibly been you, could it? After all, you've been here. It would take a great act of magic to warp through space..."

Ganondorf watched her with a neutral expression as she spoke. When she said the word "warp," however, his face became animated with interest.

"Warping is no great act of magic at all," he said. "In fact, it's quite easy. Watch."

He winked at her, and suddenly his face and body were covered by a dark shadow, almost as if night had fallen only on him. Zelda blinked to clear her eyes, and when she opened them he was no longer there.

"It's as simple as that," he said from behind her. She spun around to find him grinning at her startled reaction.

"How did you do that? Can you explain it to me?" Zelda demanded. It was one thing to see such magic in her vision, where everything had been strange and wonderful, but it was another thing entirely to see it in such a prosaic setting as one of the stables of her own castle. She knew she should take the opportunity to confront Ganondorf directly concerning his whereabouts during the past week, but she found that her curiosity was stronger than her sense of duty. She also found that she wasn't particularly interested in pursuing an interrogation. If Ganondorf wanted to climb the slopes beyond the beaten trails of Death Mountain, he was free to do so, and his nonchalant attitude regarding the recent eruptions made her feel as if her concern were foolish.

"The theory underlying the magic is complicated, and it took a great deal of study in order to understand something that turned out to be quite simple," he explained. "I'm sure you're aware of the existence of other worlds that lay just beyond our own."

Zelda nodded. She had read metaphysical debates surrounding the ontology of Hyrule, but she had never treated them as anything more than intellectual exercises. Ganondorf spoke with such assurance, however, that she decided it was best to agree without questioning him further.

"All of those worlds exist on different frequencies, just like different instruments performing in the same symphony. If you can attune yourself to the frequency of another world, you can travel through it, thus bending space far enough to reemerge into our own world wherever you like."

"I'm not sure I understand," Zelda admitted.

"It took me a long time to understand too, and I'm still not sure I fully comprehend the mechanics involved. I've read texts that mention magical instruments that allow anyone to tune into the frequencies of other worlds, but I've never seen something like that with my own eyes. Unfortunately, without a tool to help create a perfect resonance, all I can do is skim over the surface of other worlds."

"Do you ever see anything when you travel?" Zelda asked, intrigued by Ganondorf's allusion to magical instruments. Is that what her ocarina had been doing, transporting her to other worlds?

"I wouldn't say that I see anything, no," Ganondorf replied. "Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you. You'll understand much better once you've experienced it yourself."

He extended a hand to her, but Zelda hesitated. If he intended to attack her, it would be difficult for him to do so on the castle grounds, but if he took her somewhere far away it would be as if she simply vanished. She met his eyes, and she could see that he understood the level of trust he was asking of her. Zelda knew it would be safer to decline his offer, but if she did there would be no ride through the woods, and after that there would be no more private conversations between them. She would never know what Ganondorf meant when he said that her kingdom would burn – or she would only find out after it was too late. Zelda didn't want to endanger the relationship they were beginning to rebuild. There were diplomatic benefits to their friendship, certainly, but even more than that she didn't wish to hurt Ganondorf. Although she couldn't explain why, she was drawn to him, and she wanted to see whatever it was that he intended to show her.

She smiled and reached forward to take his hand.

"Zelda!" a voice called out from behind Ganondorf's back. A quick shadow passed over his face, but then he turned and stepped aside so that Zelda could see Link standing at the entrance to the stable. The light of the late afternoon sun streamed out from behind him.

"The king sent me to fetch you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. "He was worried when you didn't show up to deliver your report from last night. He said you would know what he meant?"

Zelda had not forgotten this appointment, and in fact she had sent a messenger to inform her father that she would speak with him later that evening. She was about to tell this to Link, but then she noticed how he was deliberately not looking at or acknowledging Ganondorf in any way. Something strange was afoot.

"Very well," she said, trying to keep her irritation out of her voice. "I'll go see him now."

"Perhaps another time," she said to Ganondorf.

"Of course," he responded. His voice was polished and smooth, but on his face she saw a curious expression. Under a polite surface of mild regret was something she hadn't expected – concern. Unless she was mistaken, he was worried about her.

She wanted to say something more to him, but it was not the right time. Without looking back at Ganondorf, she hurried after Link.


	14. Outside the Castle Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda goes to Telma's Bar to get help deciphering a scrap of paper left behind by Ganondorf but ends up drinking and watching Impa and Nabooru flirt.

When Zelda entered Telma's Bar behind Impa, the Gerudo woman named Nabooru stood and flashed her friend a bright smile as soon as she walked through the door. She then stood and gestured them over to a corner of the bar, where she had been guarding two empty stools from the crowd.

"Haven't seen you in a while, stranger," Nabooru said, winking at Zelda as she touched Impa's arm lightly. Although Zelda generally found the cloth covering her face under her guise as a Sheikah apprentice irritating, she was thankful for it now, since no one could see her blush.

A barmaid who recognized Impa set two mugs of beer in front of them. Nabooru raised her own glass in a wordless toast, and Impa clinked the rims of their mugs together before she and Nabooru slid gracefully onto their seats. To Zelda they looked like two cats, secure in themselves and confident in their prowess. They began chatting without waiting for her to climb onto her stool.

Zelda let them talk as she pulled down the loose fabric covering her mouth and took a sip of the beer. It was sweet and tangy, and the foam was rich and smooth on her lips. Instead of trying to join Impa's conversation, she rotated herself to look out into the bar as she continued drinking.

It was late enough in the evening that a sizeable crowd of people had gathered. Zelda noticed an unusually high number of Darknuts, and there were even a few Bokoblins and Moblins mixed in among them. The Gorons didn't seem to mind them, but the Hylians and Zora gave their groups a wide berth. As far as Zelda knew, Bokoblins and Moblins rarely came to Castle Town, preferring to remain in their own settlements in the forests and on the plains. They had probably taken advantage of the large influx of people to enter the city unnoticed.

"That's a sight you don't see every day," Telma remarked to Zelda from behind the bar, having wandered over and noticed Zelda looking at a particularly rowdy table of Moblins.

"I've seen Darknuts here before," Zelda responded.

"I'd never stay in business if I started turning people away, but more of those Darknuts have been coming in from Faron Woods every day. They keep to themselves, but they've been bringing Moblins and Bokoblins with them, and they're all armed to the teeth. It might be of concern to someone who worries about such things."

"It might be," Zelda agreed, not knowing what Telma was getting at. "You don't think they're just here for the coronation?"

"To hear the way they talk, this lot doesn't seem to have a great deal of loyalty to the throne."

Zelda nodded and took another sip of beer. "Then why are they here?" she asked.

"The question isn't why they're here, but why they aren't elsewhere. Why have all of the Darknuts who used to work in the castle left, that sort of thing. It might also be worth asking why there aren't any Gerudo in the castle. If you're curious, you could start with this Gerudo right here," Telma said, tipping her head at Nabooru, "who I know for a fact has been shirking her duties at court all week."

Nabooru heard Telma's comment and turned toward Zelda.

"Don't remind me," she said, winking at Telma. "I'm trying to have a good time."

Zelda remembered how Nabooru mentioned the power of Ganondorf's magic in their previous conversation. She'd passed it off as gossip, but perhaps Nabooru knew him personally.

"Did you come to Hyrule with the Gerudo emissary?" Zelda asked her as Telma moved away to speak with a group of Zora women who had just perched themselves at the other end of the bar.

Nabooru nodded. "I did – or at least I did this time around. We're just here for show, and there's no reason for us to be in the castle if our presence isn't required. Only Ganondorf was foolish enough to show up with an agenda. He somehow got it into his thick head that this would be a good opportunity for diplomacy. He was spared most of the actual planning for his own coronation, so he has no idea how busy the castle is with the preparations. We tried to tell him that his job is to smile and look pretty, but he's always taken everything too seriously. He spent his first week here under a dark cloud because no one would make time for him. Meanwhile, we women have learned from experience that no one wants a bunch of us hanging around and making everyone uncomfortable with our unladylike behavior, so we've taken our lodgings in the city."

"I'm sorry to hear that you don't feel comfortable in the castle," Zelda said, realizing to her dismay that she had never developed a proper persona as Impaz. Would Impaz be in a position to offer condolences regarding the royal family's lack of hospitality? This only occurred to her after the words had left her mouth, but Nabooru didn't seem to think it was out of the ordinary.

"Things were different when the old queen was still alive," she responded. "I'm no expert on Hyrule, but I understand there's been a political backlash against the liberalism of her reign. I can only hope the new queen helps to improve the situation. I can't imagine it will be easy, but Ganondorf thinks highly of the princess. Or at least he won't shut up about her, that's for certain."

"What does he say?" Zelda asked, unable to help herself.

"That she's the only civilized person in that drafty pile of rocks the Hylians call a castle, that sort of thing. He tends to rant when he gets worked up about something, and we don't pay him any mind."

"I see," Zelda responded, not sure how facetious Nabooru was being. She had gotten no closer to understanding who Nabooru was, and she inwardly cursed herself for not thinking to ask her secretarial staff to give her more information about the party of Gerudo that would be attending her coronation.

She had been too occupied with other matters during the past several weeks to pursue any sort of extraneous investigations into the details of the ceremony that did not require her immediate attention, but that was no excuse for not having asked one of her secretaries or attendants as soon as she'd grown curious about Ganondorf. It was her habit to collect information and gossip about the various goings-on in her castle, and in fact she had been carefully trained by her teachers and advisors in the art of doing so. For some reason, however, she hadn't thought to go through her usual channels to inquire after Ganondorf.

As she took a sip of beer to allow for a small break in the conversation, Zelda realized how odd it was that no one had volunteered information to her of their own accord. Based on what she heard during the evening court gatherings, Ganondorf had caused quite a stir, both with his presence and his standoffishness. As a Gerudo, he looked and dressed differently than most Hylians, but so too did the numerous Gorons, Zora, and Rito who had gathered at the castle. He was the nominal leader of a prosperous territory, he was neither a minor nor an elder, and, more to the point, he was unmarried; by all rights, he should have attracted much more positive attention.

Zelda was sure that, if she did begin to ask people about Ganondorf, she would no doubt hear any number of interesting rumors, but she felt reticent to do so. Although she couldn't put her finger on why, there was something about her relationship with him that she wanted to keep to herself. She didn't want people to know that she was asking after him, nor did she want people to speculate on how interested in him she truly was. If anyone else had come to her court and started making insinuations about how her kingdom would burn, she would have had their background thoroughly extirpated and their movements meticulously traced. This business with Ganondorf was different, somehow, and she still didn't understand why her intuition had guided her to pursue the matter on her own.

Zelda's life was well structured and guided by a strong sense of order, yet her recent dreams of catastrophe had disoriented and unbalanced her, and her visions added a number of unknown variables. Political malcontents she could deal with, but warlords and wizards were something else entirely. Meanwhile, she suspected that Impa was hiding something from her, and even Link, whom she could always count on to treat her as a friend, was behaving strangely. Earlier this afternoon he had interrupted her conversation with Ganondorf, saying that the king had summoned her; but, when she arrived in the stateroom her father was currently occupying, he informed her that he had done no such thing. What intrigued her more than what appeared to be Link's clumsy attempt to separate her from Ganondorf was her father's complete lack of curiosity or irritation when she explained what had happened. It was all very strange.

"By the way," Zelda said, reaching into a pouch at her belt, "it's embarrassing to admit this, but I'm terrible with Gerudo cursive. I was wondering if I could get you to read something for me." She withdrew the scrap of paper that Ganondorf had left in the small book of legends in the library and handed it to Nabooru.

Nabooru took it from her, the gold of her rings gleaming in the dim light of the storm lanterns suspended above the bar. She looked at the paper, blinked, and laughed.

"It's an advertisement for shaved ice," she said, grinning. "And this isn't cursive. You're even worse at our language than you think. Is this an excuse to get me to invite you to the desert? Because I'm always open to introducing pretty young women to new cultural experiences."

"Don't tease the poor girl," Impa said, poking Nabooru in the ribs. "I can't have you leading my apprentice astray."

"Do as the master says and not as the master does, isn't that right?" Nabooru replied, poking her back.

"Could you check the other side?" Zelda broke in, blushing furiously.

"Of course," Nabooru assented, flipping the paper between her slim fingers. Zelda felt even more heat rise to her face. The cursive on the back of the scrap of paper was beautiful, and it made her heart beat heavier in her chest as she watched the delicate movement of Nabooru's hand while imaging Ganondorf writing the forceful yet intricate flow of words.

"No wonder you couldn't read this," Nabooru said. "It's an old system of musical notation. If I hadn't already seen it written like this before, I might not have been able to understand it either. What you've got here are the opening bars of a dance, and it goes like this..."

Nabooru proceeded to hum a quick and lively melody. Zelda didn't think she had ever heard it before, but it resonated in her mind just as "The Song of the Hero" had. She didn't think she would have any trouble remembering it.

"Does it have lyrics?" Impa asked.

"Not traditionally, but people like to set it to words, some dirtier than others. It's a prayer for a long and happy marriage. Some of the more conventional lyrics go like this..."

Without any hesitation or embarrassment at all, Nabooru began to sing softly in a rich and husky voice. The lyrics had been composed in an archaic version of the Gerudo language, and Zelda wasn't able to understand everything, but what she heard was filled with wind and sand and stars.

"I've read this poem before," Impa said when Nabooru finished. "I didn't know it'd been set to a melody." She then sang the next verse, surprising Zelda, who had never heard her sing before.

Before she got more than a few lines in, Nabooru touched a finger to her lips, her eyes large and bright. "Stop singing before you make me fall in love with you," she murmured.

Zelda smiled and looked away, turning her back on the two women. She enjoyed watching them, but she resolved to go elsewhere and give them privacy once she finished her beer.

Before her daily schedule became too crowded to allow her to read for pleasure, Zelda had loved romances, and she dreamed of epic quests and fearsome monsters and brave princesses and princes fighting alongside kind and gentle heroes who were nevertheless carnivorous enough to ravage their partners properly when the time came. Knowing that she would only create trouble for herself if she were to indulge her curiosity at court, Zelda had convinced Impa to help her sneak out of the castle. Impa always exhibited something of a rebellious streak herself, and she hadn't required a great deal of persuasion.

Even before Impa allowed her to dress as a Sheikah apprentice, Zelda had disguised herself as a townsman's daughter, or the son of traveling merchants, or a soldier in training – anything that would help her walk through the city unnoticed and talk with people without arousing suspicion. Once she had learned to mimic the speech and gestures of people whose lives had not been constrained by a noble upbringing, Zelda grew more bold. Under Impa's supervision, she had flirted with various people by daylight, and then, once she was confident enough to request that Impa to occupy herself elsewhere, she began indulging in brief romantic entanglements by night.

No matter whether she made her advances to women or to men, she had never been able to find the warmth that radiated from every interaction between Impa and Nabooru. She had never felt the fierceness in their eyes when they looked at each other, or the gentleness in the space they created between them, or the grace with which they moved around one another. Perhaps it was simply her lack of experience, but in her couplings hands were unpleasantly sweaty and grasping while tongues were nothing more than saliva-coated muscles. The first time she had allowed herself to be penetrated had been brief and awkward, and her second experience had been, if it was possible, even more unpleasant.

Is that what marriage would be like? Painful and joyless fumbling until an heir was produced? A princess must be calm and composed, even in the most taxing and regrettable situations, but Zelda resented the expectation that she be bred like a prize horse. She thought, not for the first time, that she would gladly give up the privilege of her birthright if it meant that she could exercise full control over her time and her own body.

Out of the corner of her eye Zelda saw someone approach from the side, a young man whose fine clothing was only perfunctorily concealed by a shabby cloak. Zelda rolled her eyes as she finished her beer and set the glass down on the bar. He was more than likely one of the recently arrived gentry who had gone out looking for cheap thrills but was too stupid to know that Telma's Bar was not the place to find them.

As he drew closer, Zelda recognized him as the son of a military commander stationed in the northeast Akkala hills. Earlier this very evening she had seen him attempt to seduce one of her childhood rivals, a girl who had once teased her mercilessly about her dreams and now rarely spoke to her. When he had been formally presented to her by his father, however, he addressed her in a parody of sincere affection. Zelda only barely tolerated him then, and it made her stomach churn to be confronted with him again now. Since there seemed to be no avoiding it, she spun on her stool to face him, fixing him in as icy a glare as she could manage.

"My buddies dared me to come over and talk to you," he said as he sat down on a stool next to her.

"How courageous of you," Zelda muttered, twisting her face away from the whiskey fumes that rose from his body. A small cheer went up from a nearby table, but she refused to look at the rabble spurring him on.

"You're awfully pretty," he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. "So tell me, are you are boy, or are you a girl?"

"Piss off," Zelda said in a dry voice, pulling the loose cloth at her neck up to cover her mouth as she stood to leave. The nobleman reached for her, and she kicked a leg of his stool, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling onto the floor. After a moment of shock and confusion, he launched a volley of expletives up at her, but she let them bounce off her back as she headed for the door, suggestively fingering one of the knives sheathed at her waist to discourage anyone who might feel compelled to follow her. She may not have nailed down all the subtleties of her persona as Impaz, but warding off creeps came to her like second nature.

The slight chilliness of the outside air was a welcome relief after the clamor and press of bodies in the bar. As far as Zelda was concerned, the night was over; all she wanted to do was to wash her face, fall into her bed, and sleep until morning. She wished she possessed Ganondorf's ability to use magic to travel, and she resented the fact that she hadn't been able to go riding with him. During the next few days she could expect work and more work, and then even more work on top of that. The only thing that sparked excitement in her heart was the anticipation of being able to play the Gerudo song on her ocarina. Even if it did not transport her through time, she found the prospect of recreating the melody with her own breath strangely arousing.


	15. Dancing on the Eve of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda has an intimate conversation with Ganondorf on the night before a wedding that was once her own.

Zelda excused herself from court early by claiming that she was tired, but nothing could be further from the truth. She had slept long and late the night before, and throughout the day she was filled with an electric charge of energy. As she made her way to her rooms, she gradually shed all of the courtiers who accompanied her progress, and when she finally closed the door behind her she dismissed her attendants, telling them that she wished to prepare for bed on her own. Extracting herself from her gown and jewelry was no small feat, but she worked quickly and efficiently before dressing herself in a long tunic and a set of the loose pleated riding pants that had recently come into fashion in Castle Town.

She lit the flame of a small storm lantern and used the secret passage connecting her drawing room with the lower floor to go to the library. She worried that, on this night of all nights, it would be occupied by one or two of the more cultured of the recent arrivals to the castle or by a zealous couple seeking privacy, but the large room was empty and illuminated only by the moonlight that drifted through the windows. The library had always been drafty, and the stone walls held a slight chill, but Zelda was comfortable; she had always liked the cold.

She placed her lantern on an ornamental table as she settled into one of the overstuffed chairs arranged on the floor below the shelves. After sitting silently for a few moments with her eyes closed, she withdrew her mother's ocarina from her pocket and turned it over in her hands while she worked through the day's troubles in her mind.

Ruto had once again delayed her visit to the castle, and this time she hadn't bothered to provide an excuse. Zelda understood that the Zora princess was not being rude but rather demonstrating her trust in Zelda's friendship and goodwill, but she was still concerned. The leader of the Goron tribe, an enormous bearded man named Darunia, had also failed to attend court this evening. This was disconcerting, for Darunia was her father's equal in joviality, and it was not in his character to pass up an opportunity for drinking and dancing. Meanwhile, Zelda had been informed that a sizable party of Moblins had set up a large tent outside the city earlier that morning. This wasn't technically illegal, as they occupied common land that was open to anyone who wished to use it, but there had been vociferous complaints that Zelda suspected were not commensurate to any actual disturbance the group of Moblins may have actually caused.

As usual, Ganondorf hadn't shown his face at court. When she asked after him, her inquiries were met with mean-spirited gossip. A certain amount of rumor-mongering was to be expected, but Zelda was surprised by the venom lacing the general opinion of Ganondorf, which bled into the words of people whom she could usually count on to be fair and even-tempered. It was said that Ganondorf did not eat properly, and that he often touched his hands to his food like a savage, as if he were no better than a Moblin. People complained that he smelled strangely, and that his clothing was too dark and too loose, and that the gold and gems he wore in his hair and on his fingers were too flashy, and that he did not smile, and that his oddly colored eyes were too intense.

People whispered that they had seen Ganondorf in Castle Town in the company of Gerudo women, whom everyone knew only ventured into the kingdom to tempt and steal Hylian men. Some people claimed that he spent too much time in the stables, and that he would only speak with Darknuts, and that the attention he paid to Barghest's Hylian apprentice was inappropriate. Of course, people tittered, the stable boy _was_ beautiful. A young woman from the distant Hebra mountains hinted that there was a covert trade in amateur sketches of Link in various salacious poses, which caused Zelda to wonder just how much of the antipathy toward Ganondorf was actually a result of envy that he moved and spoke as he wished.

At a certain point in the evening Zelda managed to find a moment alone with her father. Thinking of Telma's advice from the previous night, she asked him why there were only a small handful of Gerudo at court. He glanced around them before quietly answering that the Gerudo had shunned both the castle and his company ever since the passing of the last queen. No one knew the truth of it, he said, but it was her mother whom they had blamed for the accident that resulted in her death. He apologized, adding that they would need to speak more of this later. He then turned to one of the Rito ambassadors, who was clutching two fresh glasses of wine in her feathers as she approached. Zelda's conversation with her father lasted little more than a minute, and then her attention was immediately directed elsewhere as she accepted one of the wineglasses and began chatting with the ambassador.

Zelda wasn't as gregarious as Daphnes, but she enjoyed the exchange of conversation. Nevertheless, she had reached her limit of dealing with people and politics for the evening. She was simultaneously tired yet filled with restless energy. People would talk if she went out riding so late at night, so she decided to read instead.

When she was younger, her favorite book had been about a teenage witch named Maple who went to live in a Rito aerie. At first it seemed that Maple was clumsy and had not been gifted with any particular talent, but through hard work and perseverance she eventually learned to fly. Zelda was struck with a pang of nostalgia as she remembered the story. She sat up in her chair, thinking that she would take the lantern between the shelves to locate the book. The strange metal of the ocarina had finally grown warm in her hands, however, and before she put it down she wanted to take a shot at playing the song Nabooru had performed for her.

She had been absentmindedly humming snatches of it all day, but when she held the mouthpiece of the ocarina to her lips she had trouble finding the right notes. The meter of the song was fast and lively, and her fingers were stiff from lack of practice. She tried to piece together the exact sequence of notes while she searched for the right key, and she wondered what Ganondorf's voice would sound like if he sang it. Suddenly she caught the melody, and her spirit rose as the song began to carry her.

Zelda closed her eyes, and she could feel the world around her flowing like water, or like time, or like music itself, and then she could hear other sounds – the crackle of fire and the clapping of hands and the strings of a guitar accompanying her. She knew that she had once again been transported through time, but instead of being frightened she continued to play. She was enjoying herself, and to her delight she now knew exactly how the song should go.

Zelda opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was a man sitting on a large rock with a guitar in his lap. He watched her and smiled as he as he played. His hair framed his face in long braids, and the delicate embroidery on the collar of his tunic shone in the light of the fire like golden scales. The lines and curves of his nose and jaw were unfamiliar to her, but from the second she saw him there was no doubt in Zelda's mind that this must be Ganondorf.

When the final chord closed and the last notes faded, the music was replaced by the cheers and laughter of a circle of women in old-fashioned Gerudo dress. One of them reached out to draw her into their circle, and as she was propelled forward she managed to shove the ocarina into a pocket of her pants, which had blossoming hems that were tucked into riding boots with flat soles whose leather flaps buttoned along her calves. To her delight she found that this clothing fit her perfectly and was more comfortable than anything she had ever worn.

Zelda was twirled into a dance with the other women, their muscular arms twining around hers. Beautiful floral designs drawn in sepia ink covered the exposed areas of their skin, and loose ribbons fluttered along after their unbound hair. She was surrounded by a swirl of smiles and bright eyes, and when it was over small cups of fragrant tea spiced with alcohol were passed between hands as toasts were made. Zelda realized that the women around her were speaking a version of the Gerudo language that was so archaic that she could recognize it only by its pattern of consonants and vowels, but she had no trouble understanding what was said to her. Words sprang into her mind and formed easily on her tongue, and when she thanked the women for the tea they began to talk with her, guiding her to one of the canvas pavilions set up around a large bonfire. She allowed herself to be swept along, overwhelmed by the sound of the crowd and the smell of roasting meat and peppers in the air and the dazzling colors of the silk banners adorning the canvas tents.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to find Ganondorf looking down at her.

"I know you're eager to speak with the princess," he said to her companions, "but surely you won't deny me the privilege of dancing with my fiancée on the night before our wedding."

Before she could object Ganondorf slid his hand down her waist, and then she was in his arms and they were dancing. It was nothing like the dance they'd shared in her own time. He held her tightly, and the pressure of his hands was forceful as he guided her. He used the gaps between the beats to touch her arms and her face and her hair, and no matter how they moved he kept his eyes fixed on her.

Zelda was astounded by his audacity. She knew that she could break away from his grasp if she made an effort, but he was so close and his hands were so strong and he smelled so good. She leaned into him and matched her movements to his, justifying to herself that it would be awkward if she pushed him away before the dance was over.

The song seemed to take no time at all, and when it was finished everyone around them cheered. Ganondorf lifted her by the waist and spun her around before setting her back on her feet and kissing her hand. The gesture felt so oddly intimate that she was finally shocked into wondering where they were and what they were doing.

Blushing fiercely, Zelda glanced over Ganondorf's shoulder. She could see the white stone of the castle walls in the distance, and she deduced that the Gerudo must have set up their camp in the field that used to lie between the castle and the city. A second later she noticed that the dim outline of the structure against the moonlit sky was nothing she had ever seen before. Its towers were not the practical rectangles she had known all her life, but pointed spires rising elegantly into the sky. She had come across architectural drawings of cathedrals with the same features, but the only examples of these buildings that still remained in her own time were far away from the center of Hyrule. Zelda estimated that she must have traveled more than four hundred years into the past.

A chain of associations clicked together in her mind, and Zelda drew in a sharp intake of breath. Four hundred years ago there had been a civil war that resulted in most of the castle being destroyed. It was amazing to see the historical edifice with her own eyes, even at a distance, but she was struck by the fear that this vision would show her the opening salvo of the war. She seemed to have found herself in the midst of a celebration of some kind, but was she safe? And had she understood Ganondorf correctly when he referred to her as his finacée?

Ganondorf seemed to sense that she was upset. He motioned to one of the women attending them, who stepped forward to offer him a small bottle of water. Its surface was frosty with condensation. He touched the smooth glass to her forehead in what Zelda assumed was a ritual gesture before leading her away from the circle, all the while chatting lightly about how fortunate it was that the women organizing his travel party had the foresight to bring ice along with them. They wove their way around several tents before finally coming to a stop at the base of a tree with white bark and short silver leaves.

"It seems you've been taking good care of the olive tree I sent you," he observed as he helped her sit down at its base. Zelda leaned back against the trunk and drank deeply, finding that she was unbearably thirsty.

"I was afraid that it wouldn't do well in this climate. You must have given it a lot of attention," he continued. "In return, I'd like you to have this."

He knelt beside her and presented her with a delicate golden ring adorned with a stylized representation of the Gerudo crest. His words and movements were so sudden that Zelda could only stare at him, unsure of how he expected her to respond. "I wanted you to have it before the ceremony tomorrow," he said, holding his left hand out for hers. Zelda hesitated. Ganondorf seemed to be serious, but what did it matter, in the end? It was just a vision, and she could not change the past.

 _The goddess grant me wisdom_ , Zelda prayed.

She placed her hand into his, and he turned it so that her palm was facing upward. Instead of slipping the ring onto her finger, he pressed it into the center of her palm and gently squeezed her fingers around it. He withdrew his hand, and she held the ring up to admire the metalwork.

"Do you know what the crest represents?" he asked.

Zelda smiled. "Some people say that it represents the false eyes on the back of the king cobra," she answered, remembering the words of the Ganondorf in her own time. "But some people say they're the eyes of the sand goddess, while some say they are the eyes of the Gerudo dragonfly. Together the two eyes create perspective, just as a deep bond between two people will balance and strengthen them both."

When she looked up from the ring, Ganondorf was smiling at her. He touched the tips of his fingers to her cheek, and then he leaned forward and kissed her.

Zelda immediately tensed and pulled back. She looked down, unable to meet Ganondorf's eyes. She watched as he covered her hand with his, and when she raised her eyes he was gazing at her with concern.

"We don't have to do this, if that's not what you want," he said softly.

Zelda was unsure whether he was referring to kissing her, or to something else. "Do what?" she asked bluntly, still too shocked to find polite words.

"You've tried to hide it from me, but I know your brother and his council oppose our marriage. We know that many of the Hylian noble families have decided not to attend the ceremony, and we know why we weren't invited to stay in the castle. I know what I'm asking of you – if you leave, you won't be able to come back to Hyrule. No one would blame you if you called this off. I..." He paused and squeezed her hand. "I wouldn't blame you. We haven't spent this much time together in years, and I would understand if you've changed your mind."

Zelda stared at Ganondorf as what he said to her began to sink in. They were going to be married? That couldn't be possible. If there had been a union between a Hylian princess and one of the Gerudo leaders, she would have read about it.

"Please, tell me, Zelda," Ganondorf continued as he knelt in front of her. "Do you really want this?"

Zelda still didn't understand what he was asking. If their marriage had been arranged, and if matters had gotten to the point that there was a large group of Gerudo camping out in the field surrounding the castle so that they could attend the ceremony, then everything had already been decided. Was he really giving her a choice? Did what she want really matter that much to him?

"I don't know," she answered him honestly.

Ganondorf grimaced. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he shifted his weight and sat down on the grass beside her.

"I've loved you since I first saw you, you know," he said after a moment had passed, not looking at her as he spoke. "Even as a boy visiting Hyrule for the first time, I knew I wanted to marry you. My mothers and aunts used to tease me, telling me what a silly fantasy this was, but I could never give it up. Every single letter you sent me I read over and over until the paper started to tear along its creases. Sometimes I even traced the words just to feel how your hand moved."

Zelda inhaled sharply, realizing that she had done the same with the scrap of paper Ganondorf left behind in the library. She told herself that she was just trying to figure out what was written there, but there was something more, and it was exactly how this man described it – a part of her had wanted to feel how his hand moved as he wrote.

"Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I read your words so carefully that I may have read too much into them, and it hurt me how much it pains you to be confined to this castle. You never said as much, but I could tell."

"Ganondorf..." Zelda murmured, trying to anchor herself as the reality of this vision threatened to overtake her sense of self. The woman whose body she occupied was a stranger to her, but still Ganondorf's description of this princess echoed her own frustrations. She did hate being confined to the castle, and she hated that the progression of her days and nights was dictated by a schedule that kept her busy at all times and trapped her within her duties.

Ganondorf slid his hands over hers and looked at her once again. "Let me take you away from here," he said, his voice quiet but compelling. "In our city you can come and go as you please, and you can ride and travel wherever your will guides you. It's expected that Gerudo rulers leave the desert and journey to the lands outside of Hyrule. My family and advisors will welcome you and the expertise you bring, and no one will expect you to perform for the court like a trained bird in a cage of silk."

Zelda was mesmerized by Ganondorf's eyes as he spoke. She knew it was dangerous to be swept up in a reality that was not her own, but the fantasy he promised seemed, in that moment, to be everything she had ever wanted.

"When you wrote to me," he continued, "you told me about the books you read, all the stories of brave heroes and evil wizards and faraway lands. I loved your words, but I want you to be able to write about what you see with your own eyes."

As he spoke, he stroked and caressed her hands, pressing his fingertips against hers and massaging her palms with his thumbs. There was an intimacy to his touch that she had not felt when they danced, and heat rose to her face when she realized that she did not want him to stop. And was that wrong? If this was just a vision, what did it matter what she did or said? No one was watching her, and no one would judge her.

"I'm afraid that I'm not ready to leave Hyrule," she said, gaining confidence in the ease with which she was able to speak in a voice and language that were not her own. "I may not be ready now, and I don't know if I'll ever be ready. Everything I've ever known is here, and what little ability I have is limited to my familiarity with routine and protocol. All I know is being a princess in this castle, and if I leave I won't even have that."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Ganondorf replied, tracing the valleys between her knuckles with his thumb. "And to tell you the truth, I'm nervous myself. I wasn't sure I was ready to return to Hyrule again, not after what happened last time. You saw it with your own eyes, and I don't have to tell you how we're hated and feared in your kingdom. My own mothers weren't happy about me insisting on marrying a Hylian, but I've never been happier. No one has ever done anything like this – but Zelda, we can make our own way."

Ganondorf tilted his face toward her, and the light of the distant fire caught his strange golden eyes, making them shine. _It's just a vision_ , Zelda thought, and then she leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were softer than she imagined, and the scent of his skin was delicious. He moved his hands up her arms and around her shoulders as he pulled her to him and opened her lips with his tongue. As the kiss deepened he was not gentle, and it thrilled Zelda to allow herself to yield to the ferocity of his ardor. No one had ever touched her or wanted her like this, and she was almost jealous of this princess for having generated such a fierce desire. She grew bolder, caressing the thick muscle of Ganondorf's shoulders and neck as she drew his body closer to hers.

"Lord Ganondorf!" a woman's voice interrupted them. Zelda broke the kiss and pulled away as the messenger approached. "A young man has been sent to retrieve the princess."

"Then go back and tell him that he can wait," Ganondorf snapped at her, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. She nodded her head in acknowledgment, but even in the dim light Zelda could see the shadow of anxiety that passed over her face.

"This is your brother's doing, I'm sure of it," Ganondorf muttered. He clenched one of his hands in a fist and cracked his knuckles, and Zelda watched in horror as his face twisted into a scowl of rage. "Stay here," he said to her, not even bothering to look in her direction as he spoke. "I will send someone to guard you. I will protect you from your family if it's the last thing I do."

Zelda felt her face solidify into a mask as she was pierced by a keen sense of annoyance. How dare this man pledge his love to her and promise her freedom only to order her to remain behind in a conflict? She started to get to her feet, planning to tell Ganondorf that she was perfectly capable of protecting herself, when suddenly the air was split by a multitude of screams. Zelda froze, and then she was knocked back against the trunk of the tree by the force of an explosion that boomed into the sky.

She threw her arms in front of her face, expecting to be struck by a blast of fire or a hail of debris, but when she opened her eyes Ganondorf was crouching over her to shield her from harm. The anger was gone from his face, and what had replaced it was pure fear. In that moment she understood exactly why she had never read about the union between a Hylian princess and a Gerudo leader, and she felt the frost of a cold fury settle over her features. She touched her fingertips lightly to the smooth skin of Ganondorf's jaw as she met his eyes, sharpening his will with her own. His face slowly hardened under the ice of her gaze.

"Go," she commanded.

He nodded in understanding, and then he stood and strode off into the hellish night. Zelda knew what must happen next, but she had no wish to see it with her own eyes. As the discordant chorus of terrified voices and cries of pain surrounding her grew louder, she withdrew her ocarina and began to play.


	16. The Twilight Realm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda begins to understand the nature of the threat facing her kingdom as she speaks with Ganondorf in a lost and forgotten garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This illustration was created by the brilliant [Lightsintheskye](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/), who is a literal wizard of art. You can find a larger version [on her Tumblr](http://lightsintheskye.tumblr.com/post/170509735721/hey-its-been-a-bit-but-im-sure-all-the-zelgan), where you can appreciate all the gorgeous details.

Zelda opened her eyes to find herself back in her own time. The flame of the lantern on the table beside her had died, and she was surrounded by darkness. After the din of battle, the silence of the empty library was oppressive.

Her fury at what she had seen in her vision slowly ebbed away, but she still felt pulled by the tide of cold determination that had risen within her as she witnessed a terrible scene of unprovoked violence. She felt alive and charged with energy, but she was unsure of how to channel it.

She lowered the ocarina from her lips and allowed herself a moment of reflection. She considered jumping headlong into a spate of research in order to discover exactly what the truth of that ancient war might have been, but when she shifted her weight in preparation to rise from her seat she realized that she hadn't brought anything that she could use to relight the lamp. She grimaced and wished, not for the first time, that she had a better command of magic. Her desire to create fire was so strong that she could almost feel the spell right on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be realized, but the exact words and melody she needed escaped her. As a young girl, she had been taught to keep her prophetic dreams and other mystical abilities to herself, and the scant magical education she received had ended abruptly with the death of her mother.

Zelda clicked her tongue in frustration and exhaled slowly. She thought of what the Ganondorf in her vision had said about there being no need for a monarch to remain confined in a castle. _Once my coronation ceremony is over and done with, and once I'm queen_ , she resolved, _I will go wherever I want. I will journey through Hyrule, and I will visit the lands beyond it_. If only there were a way to travel more efficiently. Ganondorf had offered to show her how the relevant magic functioned, but she had not seen him since Link interrupted their conversation in the stables. Of course, she admitted to herself, the blame was partially her own for not seeking him out. _I wonder_ , she mused, having heard a fair share of gossip that the Gerudo emissary kept strange hours, _if it's not too late to send him a message..._

A sudden sound caught Zelda's attention, startling her from her reverie. When it was repeated, she realized that something was tapping on the glass of one of the library windows. This was strange, as there were no trees next to these windows, which were almost six feet above the ground of the inner courtyard garden they faced. Again there was a rapping at the window, with two beats. It was as if someone were trying to get her attention.

Intrigued, she stood up and walked to the window. To her immense surprise, Ganondorf was facing her on the other side. Despite the odd circumstances, she felt almost as if she had been expecting him. She laughed out of sheer amazement and broke into a smile. He returned her smile and gestured toward himself, signaling her to join him in the garden. When she came closer, he placed his palm against the window.

Without hesitating, Zelda put her hand on the glass against his. She felt herself being pulled forward, and in the space of a heartbeat she was on the other side of the wall, standing on nothing but air. As she fell forward, Ganondorf caught her, and he held her as they drifted downward.

Once Zelda's feet were on the ground again, Ganondorf released her and stepped back.

"I thought I might find you here," he said, still smiling.

"How did you do that?" she asked him.

He opened his mouth but then shook his head. "It would be easier to show you," he answered.

She reached out to take his hand. "Then show me," she insisted.

He nodded, and then she could feel the world becoming soft around her, like a cube of sugar melting into tea. It was the same liquid feeling of weightlessness that she experienced at the start of her visions, but instead of being struck with vertigo she felt as sharp and focused as an arrow. She realized that her body was resonating with some sort of power, and she quickly attuned herself to the same sense of flow that guided her when she played the ocarina.

"It looks like you've found the frequency," Ganondorf murmured. He took her other hand in his. "Are you ready to make the jump?"

Zelda nodded, not wanting to interrupt her sense of harmonic resonance by speaking.

She felt drawn forward by a gentle force. Moving with it was as effortless as allowing herself to be guided in a dance. She decided to keep her eyes open, and as she watched the world blinked into total blackness. Before she had a chance to understand what was happening, it just as rapidly became suffused with an eerie golden light.

Zelda gasped and dropped Ganondorf's hands. They were still in the small courtyard garden facing the inner windows of the library, but it was drastically different. No longer were the plants well-ordered and carefully maintained; everything from the grass to the ivy was overgrown and unkempt. Instead of a well filled with soil, there was an ornamental fountain in the center of the castle walls surrounding the small space. Water spilled from the sides of a shallow basin and fell onto the delicately carved marble of its base without making a sound.

Zelda was fascinated by this silence, and she was entranced by the gleam of the golden light on the falling water, which looked like a curtain of brightly shimmering fabric. The quality of the light was so odd that Zelda couldn't help but glance up, wondering what sort of otherworldly sun or moon she would see in the sky. She inhaled sharply when she saw that there was nothing above her but blackness, an empty void pierced by not even a single star. And yet the darkness emitted an eldritch illumination by which Zelda could see the fantastic spires and stone ornaments of a castle that was similar to but very different from her own.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"The Sheikah once called it the Twilight Realm," Ganondorf answered, studying her face closely.

"The Sheikah?" This was not a word that she'd expected Ganondorf to say, and she didn't know how to respond. She stepped forward, intending to walk to the fountain in order to give herself time to think, but there was an odd resistance against the movement of her limbs. It was like walking through water, or like trying to run in a dream.

Zelda lost her balance and stumbled. Ganondorf caught her, and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

"This is Sheikah magic?" she asked. Realizing that she had no reason to doubt what Ganondorf had told her, she immediately rephrased her question. "Why would the Sheikah have magic like this?"

"According to what I read in old Gerudo manuscripts, the royal family taught it to them."

"I see..." Zelda muttered. The implications of this information were disturbing. Why would the royal family have taught the Sheikah magic that they themselves no longer knew how to use? Why would the Gerudo have knowledge of such things? Legends were legends, but this magic was clearly real. This meant that other worlds did indeed exist alongside Hyrule.

"Is this one of the 'other worlds' you mentioned earlier?" she asked Ganondorf, no longer able to contain her curiosity. "How did you find out about this place? When did you first come here? _Why_ did you come here?"

"It's a long story..." Ganondorf frowned and looked away, and for the first time Zelda noticed how he was dressed. He wore dark clothing with high riding boots, and hard leather gauntlets covered his forearms. The collar of his jacket was open, and his unbound hair was disheveled. There were odd stains on the fabric of the legs of his pants, and pale mud was streaked and splattered on his riding boots. He smelled faintly of mulch and tree sap.

Zelda decided that she would wait to question him about his appearance. She had learned enough about Ganondorf to know that he would talk to her when the moment was right, but he seemed to have been caught off guard by this encounter, even though he was the one who had come to her. In fact, very little about this situation made sense to her. She _would_ speak to him, and she would do it tonight, but first she needed to set him at ease.

"Then... tell me," Zelda asked, hoping that a question with an easy answer would dispel the awkwardness of their conversation, "how do we travel through this realm?"

"I'll show you," he responded, extending his hand once again. As Zelda took it, she noticed that the palm of his glove was scuffed and coated with dust. She bit her lip, thinking that perhaps she should just go ahead and ask him where he'd been, but then he jumped into the air, propelling both of them rapidly upward. They rose as if they'd been shot from a cannon, and then they stopped just as suddenly and remained hanging, suspended at the level of the eaves of the roof over the library.

"This entire realm is made of magic," Ganondorf said, speaking in a low voice as Zelda squeezed his hand, holding on for dear life. "You simply envision where you wish to go, and you can travel as quickly as light – or shadow."

Zelda loosened her grip on Ganondorf's hand as she surveyed the tiled roofs and spires. The castle resembled the one she had just seen in her vision, and from this vantage point she could appreciate the marvels of its architecture. Even her untrained eye could see that the building was designed to favor style and ornamentation over practicality, with ornate stonework highlighting the joints of the high walls and the arches over the stained glass windows.

It occurred to her to wonder how much all of this had cost. In her own time, the royal family was quite comfortable, but they never could have afforded such opulence. Zelda was not a strong believer in anything as simple and facile as "tradition," at least not to the extent that her father was, but the curved lines and sharp angles of the architecture filled her with a deep longing, almost like nostalgia for something she had never seen. Whoever had destroyed all of this must have been so utterly consumed by rage that not even beauty could stay their hands.

Zelda was so overwhelmed that she momentarily forgot she was suspended in the air above the castle, and when she remembered she was filled with an effervescent sense of joy. This was like something out of a story, but it was real, and it was happening to _her_. Despite the ostensible glamour of being a princess, and despite the glittering jewels and gowns and banquets that adorned her nights at court, Zelda's life was largely occupied by formal hearings and tautological legislation and the endless petty details of bureaucracy. She could manage the small and innocuous spells that her mother had taught her, and sometimes she saw glimpses of the future in her dreams, but she had never imagined that magic could be responsible for something so utterly fantastic.

Everything that had happened to her in the last hour was so unexpected and unbelievable that Zelda was almost overcome by an urge to start laughing. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and she released Ganondorf's hand as she turned to get a better look at the castle.

Zelda could sense something resembling a cushion of air under her feet. She shifted her weight slightly as she took a small step forward. She did not fall, and so she took another step, and then another. She found that it helped if she imagined that she was standing on the marble floor of the Great Hall. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, and she was delighted to find that this helped her maintain her balance. Without giving a thought to what Ganondorf would think, she attempted to replicate a few steps of the dance she had just performed in her vision. Her body felt lighter than a cloud, so she completed the sequence with a dramatic spin. As she turned Ganondorf caught her, and he pulled her close to him as he guided her through the rest of the movements. Following his lead felt even more natural the second time around, but Zelda was still out of breath when they finished. In the heavy silence of the twilight, she could hear her heart beat in her chest.

"Where did you learn that?" Ganondorf asked. His breath was hot in her ear, and a sensation like an electric jolt passed through her.

"It must have been in a dream," she muttered. She didn't know how she should answer him, and she was torn between hoping he wouldn't pursue the matter and wishing that he would.

"A dream?" He laughed softly, and she could feel the vibrations of the sound rumbling through his chest. "Was it a dream, then, when you told me you were afraid to leave Hyrule?"

"Oh!" Zelda gasped, and every muscle in her body froze. She wanted to be back on solid ground again, immediately, and then in the blink of an eye she was. It took her a moment to reorient herself, but she did not stumble.

A second later, Ganondorf winked into existence beside her.

"So you saw what I saw," she said without prevarication, meeting his eyes with a challenge.

"You _were_ there, then," he responded, gazing at her with an equal intensity.

"Did you see everything?"

"I saw the dance, and then I saw the explosion... But I couldn't control anything. I could only watch."

Zelda shook her head, amazed by the revelation that Ganondorf had shared this vision with her. "Did you see the tower?" she asked, not knowing how else to refer to her earlier vision.

"I did, and I saw the attack on the castle as well."

Zelda felt herself blush as she remembered what else he must have witnessed.

"And did you see..." she trailed off, and then flinched when she realized that she had drawn her fingers to her lips.

"That's why I came to see you," he admitted, apparently as embarrassed as she was.

Without saying anything in response, Zelda turned toward an old and crumbling stone bench set against one of the castle walls. She had grown used to how movement worked in this strange place, and she was able to walk to it and sit down without tripping. After she settled herself, she turned her head and saw that Ganondorf was sitting beside her. She hadn't seen him move, but she supposed that was just how things worked here. He didn't attempt to speak to her, which was a relief, especially since she didn't know what to say.

Zelda sat back and let her eyes wander through the garden. It was beautiful in its disarray. She did her best to tend the small garden on the north side of the library, but it had never been a priority for her. The neglected enclosure didn't get much light, so it was never in danger of becoming a jungle, and she preferred to let the plants grow without interruption. The outer gardens surrounding the castle were meticulously manicured, with neatly trimmed hedges and evenly mown grass. The landscapers and gardeners on the castle staff had excellent taste, but she often thought that she would have preferred a bit more wildness.

She allowed her mind to drift back to the times that she and Ganondorf had played in this garden when they were younger. It had been something of a sanctuary for her then, but its only purpose now was to grow the Sheikah flowers that could not survive in direct sunlight.

Zelda glanced at Ganondorf and saw that his eyes were fixed on the silent princess lilies, which were growing in profusion within a tangle of tall grass.

"This realm was created during the war that you saw in your vision," he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "That _we_ saw, in your vision," he corrected himself. "The Sheikah didn't make it, but they used it as a prison, of sorts. This is where they sent the most dangerous of the captives that Hyrule took during the war. Gerudo were exiled here, as were the members of the Sheikah tribe who sided with us. Executing these people would have created political problems, so it was more convenient that they disappear."

Zelda frowned. "Are they still here?" she asked, thinking that it was entirely possible that time flowed differently in this place.

"No one knows what happened to them. The written histories of the Gerudo are silent on the matter, and I don't need to tell you how secretive the Sheikah are. The only thing I could find was a record of how the ritual of banishment was performed. It took years, but I was eventually able to use the description to work backward from the stated effect of the magic. Since I came to this place, it's been empty, and you can see how it's deteriorated. Time doesn't seem to pass here, and you've already experienced how space has become a bit more..."

"Unstable?" Zelda offered, remembering how it felt to be suspended in the air like a drop of oil on top of a glass of water.

Ganondorf nodded in response but said nothing else. His shoulders were stiff, and he was frowning in concentration. After watching him for a moment, Zelda realized that she recognized that look as the same frustrated expression he had worn as a child when he could not find the right words to express something he wanted to say.

Zelda realized that, if she wanted to ask him about what he had been doing and what his intentions were, it was now or never.

"Ganondorf," she began, leaning forward to place her hand on his knee. "You told me that Hyrule will burn. What did you mean?"

Ganondorf exhaled slowly, and she watched the tension drain from his posture as he relaxed.

"Every three hundred years or so Hyrule is struck by a calamity," he finally said.

"A calamity?"

"The Gerudo have a legend about a calamity that begins in your kingdom but inevitably spreads to affect us as well. If we don't take precautions against it, it will destroy us. It's written that instances of this event have decimated the Gerudo in the past, reducing the people of our kingdom to poverty and desperation. Hyrule's legends speak of this calamity too, and here it is called 'Ganon.'"

"A legendary calamity? That occurs every three hundred years? I'm not sure I understand..."

"But Zelda," Ganondorf objected, turning his head to meet her eyes, "you've seen it."

"In the visions?" Zelda shook her head slightly. "What I saw was you attacking Hyrule."

"Me?" To her surprise, Ganondorf laughed. "All Gerudo don't look alike, you know."

Zelda squeezed his knee. "You know what I mean," she insisted.

"I don't have any memories of past lives, and I don't believe in reincarnation in the first place," Ganondorf said as he sat up, covering Zelda's hand with his own as he did so.

"But it may as well have been me," he continued after a moment. "When this calamity happens, there is always a Ganondorf."

"What do you mean?"

"If a male child is born to a queen under a specific set of constellations, the event is believed to be an omen. He's named Ganondorf, for he is meant to stop the calamity."

Zelda was disturbed by the acerbic tone of his voice. "And how does he... Or rather, how are you meant to do that?" she asked.

"I am a sacrifice," he said simply. "And you, Zelda, are destined to kill me."


	17. A Silence Now Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda finally learns the truth about Ganondorf.

"You think I'm going to kill you?" Zelda was so surprised that she couldn't help but laugh. "That's absurd."

Ganondorf glared at her. "This is no laughing matter," he growled. He tried to move away, but she squeezed his thigh to hold him in place.

"You're at least a head and shoulders taller than I am, and you must weigh a dozen stone more than me. Even if I were well armed and you were practically naked, I still don't see how I would be a threat to you."

"It's not that simple," he grunted.

"I'm sure it's not," she agreed amiably. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

Ganondorf looked at her and then looked away, once again fixing his gaze on a cluster of the silent princess lilies, which were so brilliantly white that they seemed to emit their own luminescence into the strange twilight. He didn't say anything, but the intent expression on his face told Zelda that he wasn't going to run away from her and the conversation she was asking him to have. Hylia help her if he did flee, for she had no way of getting back to Hyrule.

"I'm not sure where to begin," he eventually muttered.

"Then let me start," she offered. "I have some questions I've been meaning to ask you."

"And just what is it you think you want to know?" Ganondorf scowled, but the stiff line of his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Quite a few things, actually," Zelda admitted. "Let's see if I can narrow them down to three." She raised her hand and began counting on her fingers. "First, you've spent almost no time at court, so what have you been doing while you've been here in Hyrule? Second, where have you been going at night? And third, why are you dressed like that?"

"Why am I dressed like this?" Ganondorf looked down at himself and raised his eyebrows, apparently noticing the mud splattered on his boots for the first time, but then he looked back up at her and sneered. "Why are my sartorial choices of such interest to a princess? Am I not dressed well enough for you?"

Zelda had already decided to trust him when she allowed herself to fall into his arms through the library window, so she answered him as truthfully as she could.

"There have been reports of a Gerudo man sighted on Death Mountain, and the Gorons are ill at ease, saying that the dodongos are restless. Darunia is all toasts and smiles, but his good humor masks his anxiety, which I can see in the way he won't meet my father's eyes. He's as close as an uncle to me. It hurts me to see him in pain, but the way he hesitates to mention his worries to my father hurts even more."

Ganondorf started to say something, but Zelda raised her hand to cut him off. "And there have also been reports of a Gerudo man in Zora's Domain," she continued. "I've heard that he's young and handsome and shrouded in black, and that he's cursed their deity. Ruto has sent me shallow assurances and hastily written excuses, but she hasn't yet come to Hyrule for my coronation, even though I count her as one of my dearest friends. She's never once failed to confide in me or let me know when she needs my help, so the problem she's facing must be truly difficult."

Ganondorf gave her a pained look. "Zelda, I – " he began, but she took his hand and squeezed his fingers to indicate that she was not yet done.

"And meanwhile, I've heard gossip about you and Link, yet neither of you has been willing to tell me that you're acquainted with one another. Did you know, Link has never told me the truth about where he lived and what did before he came to this castle. And now that he's apparently friendly with you, he seems not to want the two of us to see each other. And what about our stable master Barghest, who has lost almost all of his Hylian staff except Link? He's been observed speaking with other Darknuts in the early morning and late evening, almost as if he didn't want to be seen. A large group of Moblins has set up camp outside the castle walls, and there's something about them that's been making people nervous. Where did they come from, and what are they trying to do here? Or rather, who has been spreading rumors about them in order to stir up trouble?"

"Zelda..." Ganondorf did not turn away, but his eyes grew softer. It seemed to her that he was regarding her with something like awe. She took advantage of this opening and finally asked what she wanted to know.

"And now I'm here with you. You were right outside the library as soon as my vision ended, and I assume you used magic to get here. But the vision we saw interrupted something, didn't it? Where were you, before you came here? Why are you covered in mud and grass stains, and why do you smell like..." She reached up and allowed herself to stroke a stray strand of his hair, which was suffused with a fragrance like moss and pine boughs. "...why do you smell like the forest?"

Ganondorf didn't respond. Zelda watched his face carefully as he appraised her in turn. She knew that she should wait for him to say something, but she was on the verge of losing her patience, dignity be damned. She had no desire to behave like a princess; she simply wanted to be Ganondorf's friend. She dropped his hand and once again slid her fingers over his knee.

"You can tell me," she said softly. "I promise that I'll listen. It's finally just the two of us."

"Finally, you say?" Ganondorf shot her an acrimonious glance. "You've asked your questions, but what do you have to say to me?"

"What do I have to say to you?" Zelda looked away as she repeated his question. What _did_ she have to say? Did he want her to apologize for distrusting him? Yet surely he understood that his behavior was suspicious. Did he want her to apologize for having kept such a close watch on him? If she had wanted to pry information out of Ganondorf, it would not have been difficult. That's why her family had such a close relationship with the Sheikah, after all. _In fact_ , she thought with a flare of irritation, _Ganondorf should be apologizing to me_. But that was not, she realized, what she wanted. Not after what she had seen in her visions, and not after she danced with him in the starless sky above this haunted castle.

"What do I have to say to you?" she repeated once more. "Only that I'm worried about you. Whatever you're doing, I want to help."

"Why would you want to help me?" Even through the disdain in Ganondorf's voice, Zelda could feel him pulling closer to her, and she wasn't surprised when he touched his fingers lightly to her cheek.

Zelda covered his hand with her own, gently pressing his palm against her face. "Why?" She smiled. "I'm surprised you need to ask. We were friends, once, when we were children. I care for you."

Ganondorf pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips. "Do you still care for me as a child?"

Zelda shook her head. She could taste the salt of Ganondorf's skin on the tip of her tongue. She guided his hand from her lips to her chin and then raised her face to look at him. He met her gaze, and the moment stretched out, filled with possibilities that were so tangible and solid that she felt she could almost reach out and touch them. Ganondorf's eyes gleamed golden, and she could not look away from him. He hesitated, but after a sweet eternity he leaned down, bowed his head forward, and kissed her.

Ganondorf had kissed her hungrily in their vision, but now that they had returned to their own time he seemed almost afraid to touch her. When the kiss broke, as softly as a sigh, he met her eyes once again, asking an unvoiced question. Zelda responded by taking his hand and guiding it to the back of her neck. His skin was rough against hers, and she could smell the bitter tang of the aged leather of his gauntlets. He twined his fingers through her unbound hair with surprising gentleness.

"You said we could use the Twilight Realm to travel," she suggested.

"Where would you like to go?" he responded, his voice as thick and dark as syrup.

"Take me to your bedroom in the castle," she said, making it clear from her tone that it was not a request.

"As Her Highness commands," Ganondorf murmured, and then he swept her off her feet and into his arms as he stood. Holding her close to him, he stepped forward through the Twilight. The world seemed to rip and tear around him, but the way he moved forward through the jagged hole in reality seemed as effortless as passing through a gauze curtain.

On the other side of the darkness was a large and well-appointed room. Zelda recognized the layout of one of the larger guest suites, but it was nevertheless strange to her eyes. The usual sitting room furniture had been replaced with low couches, and the side tables were lower as well. Zelda had seen illustrations of the Gerudo fortress, so she understand that the arrangement of this room was meant to be an approximation of typical Gerudo accommodations. _Perhaps I'll visit his home in person, one day_ , she thought as he carried her across the room.

Ganondorf set her on her feet beside one of the couches, so she sat down, leaning against a pile of richly embroidered pillows. She sank back farther than she had expected, but the softness of the fabric was divine, and everything was suffused with the faint and pleasant smell of fragrant oil. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, smiling as she recognized the scent of sandalwood that she had associated with Ganondorf when they were younger.

When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing over her.

"You are a marvel," he whispered as his eyes settled on hers.

"I did not ask you to bring me here to marvel," she challenged him, drawing herself into an upright position.

"Then tell me," he said as he knelt before her, "what would you have me do?"

"Explain," she said simply. "Tell me where you've been going and what you've been doing. I want to help you, but I need to understand what all of this is about."

Ganondorf grimaced before rising to his feet. "Would you like some tea?" he asked.

Zelda thought about pushing him to answer her immediately, but instead she simply nodded. If he needed a few moments to collect himself, then she would let him have them.

As he busied himself with a brass samovar in an alcove set into a far corner, Zelda took the opportunity to look around the room. There were books on every available surface. They were scattered without rhyme or reason, and some of their spines were bent open in a way that made Zelda frown in disapproval. Several musical instruments were lying about as well – a hand harp, a flute, a guitar like the one Link favored, and another string instrument whose name she didn't know. What surprised her the most, however, was the profusion of flowers displayed in vases arranged around the room. Where would Ganondorf have gotten so many flowers, and why did he have them?

"I went to the Gorons first," Ganondorf said without preamble as he returned to her.

He offered her a shallow ceramic cup veined with gold. It had no handle, but it did not burn her hand when she took it. The steam rising from the pale tea was fragrant, and it was like jasmine blooming on her tongue when she tasted it.

"The Gorons have a treasure I wished to see with my own eyes," Ganondorf continued. "It was given to them in antiquity by the royal family of Hyrule as a symbol of goodwill, and it thus stood to reason that their king would know of its whereabouts. I did not announce myself as an official emissary of the Gerudo when I arrived, but I did not make a secret of my identity. Darunia nevertheless refused to acknowledge my request for an audience. While I waited for a favorable reply, I learned that this treasure was not kept within their city, but deep within a cavern that was sacred to them. It took me days to locate the entrance. When I made my way inside I found that it housed a magnificent temple within its depths, but this temple was empty. There were no priests or worshipers or Gorons of any kind there, and there was no trace of the treasure. Unfortunately, my presence disturbed the dodongos, as well as your fabulous Goron-eating dragon, but there was nothing to be done. I wonder, why would such a sacred space have been abandoned?"

 _Why indeed. And what's this treasure you were seeking?_ Zelda wanted to ask, but instead she took another sip of tea. Ganondorf watched her lift the cup to her mouth, his gaze lingering on her fingers. He saw that she saw him watching, and he looked away before drinking deeply from his own cup. Based on the condensation on its surface, it was more than likely filled with ice water.

"Next I went to the Zora," he eventually said, setting his cup down on a pile of books. Zelda cringed at the thought of the ring it would leave but held her tongue as Ganondorf began to pace around the room.

"I was able to meet with King Ralis, but the audience was an insult, a circle of pleasantries that led nowhere. My business was with the queen, but she was nowhere to be found, and I was prevented from making further inquiries. I was also prevented from meeting with the princess. Ruto has always been diligent in our correspondence, and so I tried, night after night, to find a way to send word to her."

Zelda felt a stab of jealousy. Why had Ruto not told her of this? But no, she realized, Ruto would not have informed her about Ganondorf's visits, as she apparently hadn't been told herself. The jealousy she felt had nothing to do with a lapse in her friendship with Ruto and everything to do with Ganondorf's estimation of his relationship with the Zora princess. Even though Ganondorf's back was turned, Zelda was careful to keep her face neutral.

"It was in Hyrule that I was finally able to uncover the reason why the Zora kept me at a fin's length. One of their diplomats told me that the large fish they call Jabun lives in a glacial lake in the mountains above their domain, and they believe that this creature regulates the temperature of the water that flows downstream. It has recently become agitated, and those in the Zora royal family responsible for its care have become concerned with its health – and with the livelihood of their own people. Like the Gorons, the Zora also have a treasure from Hyrule, and this treasure seems to have doubled as a symbol of their covenant with Jabun. I assumed the Zora princess would keep this treasure on her person, but she's no longer in possession of it."

"And how do you know that?" Zelda snapped, unable to help herself from imagining a meeting between Ganondorf and Ruto that was far more friendly than their own had been when she first encountered him in the hallway outside the castle library.

He turned and looked at her sharply. She felt herself blushing, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "I observed the ritual feeding of Jabun. It went... poorly," he said, shaking his head. "Afterward, I was able to track the princess's movements quite closely, and I overheard a conversation between her and a pair of older priestesses. She was distraught, and they were unkind. They believe that the Zora's Sapphire is the key to the ritual, and they blamed Ruto for its disappearance."

"Zora's Sapphire? That's the stone on Ruto's signet ring. Is that the 'treasure' you were looking for?"

Ganondorf nodded. "It is. The Gorons have a ruby, and there's an emerald hidden deep within the Lost Woods. I believe these three jewels possess extraordinary magical power, and I wanted to ascertain the nature of this power for myself."

"Why?"

"I myself didn't know why, not at first. I was researching Hylian relics that would have survived multiple instances of the calamity, and these jewels are three of the oldest existent artifacts in Hyrule."

"But..." Zelda frowned. "The Kokiri Emerald is nothing more than a myth. Generations of treasure hunters have gone into the Lost Woods seeking it, but it's never been found. So many of the people searching for it have disappeared that we no longer send our soldiers to rescue them."

When Ganondorf didn't respond, Zelda was struck with a flash of intuition. "Don't tell me... Don't tell me you've tried to go there yourself."

Ganondorf's face warmed with a slight smile. "Are you worried for my safety?"

Zelda remembered the haunted and skeletal face of a young woman who had recently been found wandering along the border of the southern forest. She could remember nothing, not even her own name, so the soldiers entrusted with her care had brought her to the castle. Zelda interviewed this woman herself, but all she could do was mutter feverishly about how the moon would fall in three days.

"Yes," Zelda answered Ganondorf's question honestly. "I am worried."

"I appreciate your concern," he said as he sat down beside her, "but you need not be. You wanted to know where I was before I met you outside the library?"

"You went to the forest," Zelda said in a flat voice, annoyed at herself for not having put the pieces together earlier.

"I did," Ganondorf replied.

"And did you speak with the Kokiri?"

"I did not."

"It's said that they use magic to make their city impossible to enter. Were you able to find it?"

Ganondorf gave her an odd look. "The Kokiri have no city."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you not know?"

"Know what?"

Ganondorf let out a slow breath and leaned back into the cushions beside her. Zelda wanted to fire a volley of questions at him, but she held herself back.

"Do you want more tea?" Ganondorf asked.

"I want to know what you're talking about," Zelda snapped. She looked down at her half-empty teacup and felt a twinge of remorse. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just, it's difficult for me to process everything you're saying. I want to get to the bottom of this."

"It's I who should apologize to you." Ganondorf sat up and reached for her hand. She set her cup down and gave it to him, and he intertwined his fingers with hers. "I haven't talked with anyone about any of this," he admitted, "and I don't know the best way to go about it."

"I should have spoken to you before now."

"I wanted to speak with you as well, but the visions set me on edge."

Zelda didn't know how to respond, and they were both silent for a moment. The warmth of Ganondorf's palm was comforting, and she began stroking his thumb with her own.

"Why don't you tell me about the Kokiri?" she prompted. "What do you mean that they don't have a city?"

Ganondorf squeezed her hand. "Properly speaking," he began, "there is no such thing as the Kokiri tribe. Small creatures called Koroks inhabit the Kokiri Forest. They resemble leafless Deku Scrubs, but they occasionally appear as Gerudo – and, I would assume, as Hylians – when talking with people from outside the forest. They live freely wherever they wish under the protection of the Deku Tree, which speaks as the voice of the forest when necessary. These creatures are collectively referred to as a tribe for the sake of political exigency, but they have no culture or society as we would think of them as such."

"But..." Zelda's head was spinning. "They send representatives at the behest of their elder. I assume the title of 'the Great Deku Tree' is an inherited position?"

"The Deku Tree is literally a true. An ancient and enormous tree, but a tree nonetheless."

"Why did we not know?"

Ganondorf smiled and squeezed her hand again. "With all due respect, Zelda, I think many people who live outside the walls of your city do know. You need to leave the castle more often."

Zelda could feel herself flush pink with embarrassment. "So," she said, changing the subject, "did you find this tree?"

"I did."

"How did you not get lost in the woods?"

"Like the Sheikah, the Gerudo have methods of seeing through illusions. It took me several attempts, but I eventually made it deep enough into the forest to find the Deku Tree."

"And did you ask it about the Kokiri Emerald?"

"I did, but it was not a pleasant conversation. It told me, in no uncertain terms, that it had sent the jewel away from the forest in order to prevent it from falling into my hands. It said that it had foreseen my coming, and that it would do everything within its considerable ability to stop me."

"Did you explain why you're seeking these jewels?"

Ganondorf shook his head as he released her hand. "I'm afraid that I don't know myself."

Zelda smiled and took the opportunity to pluck the stray leaf that had become lodged in a tangle of his hair. "Maybe you just haven't tried to explain yourself to anyone yet," she offered. "Why don't you give it a shot?"

Ganondorf took Zelda's teacup from where she had set it down and drained it before answering her. "I don't know why or how, but those three jewels may be the keys that open the door to the Sacred Realm. I have to enter the Sacred Realm. I have to find the source of the calamity, and I have to find the power to stop it."

"Did you tell this to the Deku Tree? That you're trying to save Hyrule?"

"It told me that mortals have no business in the Sacred Realm. As if that makes a difference. The tree is ancient and wise, but it is a tree, and it knows nothing of the urgency of human lives."

"I might agree with the Deku Tree," Zelda said, trailing her fingers along Ganondorf's jaw. "Not even my family knows exactly what the Sacred Realm is, or even whether it exists at all. Explain to me why it's so urgent that you find these jewels. Why can't you wait until you have the cooperation of their keepers?"

Ganondorf raised his hand to cover hers. "I want to live, Zelda," he said. "I don't want to die, and I don't want anyone to die with me – or for me, or whatever I may become. I must have the power to end the calamity before it can happen."

His eyes were shining with a fierce determination that Zelda found both disturbing and strangely entrancing. There was something in the lines of his face that was oddly familiar to her, a shadow out of time. She blinked, and suddenly she recognized the violent intensity of the wizard whom she had seen destroy the tower.

"Are you sure you're not becoming the calamity yourself? Even now?" As the words left her mouth, Zelda was almost shocked at the low tone of her voice, which offered a clear invitation.

"And what if I were?" He raised himself so that he was leaning over her, his face inches away from hers. "What if me becoming the calamity is the only way to stop it?"

"There must be another way," Zelda murmured as she pressed the tip of her index finger onto his lower lip. "Maybe we should get to work on finding those jewels."

Ganondorf grinned, and in a split second his lips were on hers. Zelda leaned backward, and Ganondorf covered her, pressing his body against hers. She could feel the stiffness forming at his waist along the side of her leg, and she shifted herself slightly to grind into it. He gasped in pleasure, and then his tongue was in her mouth, hot and demanding. She welcomed him, and then he was above her, all hardness and muscle and desire to please.

 _How dare he_ , a voice hissed in her mind, and Zelda went cold. Suddenly it was as if she were watching herself from above, and she felt the same sense of unbalance that she had experienced at the start of her visions.

"Stop," she said, and he did. Ganondorf went suddenly still, like the eye of a storm, and slowly separated himself from her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing, I... I barely know anything about you," she muttered. She wanted to keep touching him, to draw him back to her, but she forced herself to sit up and stand.

"I should go back," she stammered. "It's late, and – "

"There's no need to apologize," Ganondorf interrupted in a strained voice. His face was turned away from her, and his eyes were closed. "But, if you want to know about me," he continued, "then you need to find the truth about my mother. And yours as well."

Zelda nodded. She realized that he wasn't watching her, but she didn't know what to say. Her thoughts raced through her head in different directions. She didn't know how she would make it back to her own quarters without being observed, but she would find a way.

 _The Goddess grant me wisdom_ , she recited in her mind before heading toward the door.

"Talk to Link," Ganondorf said from behind her, his words so quiet that she could barely hear him. "He knows more about this than he would ever admit to either of us."


	18. The Boy from the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda receives a key and a warning from Link.

Zelda didn't sleep well that night. She tossed and turned for a few hours and then, when the sky turned pink with dawn, she rose, dressed herself, and headed straight for the stables.

It was still too early for the grooms of the visiting nobles to be up and about, but as soon as Zelda left the castle through one of the servants' entrances she saw Link crossing the yard. He walked at a brisk pace with a bale of hay suspended under each arm. He seemed to carry them with no effort at all, and in the silence of the morning Zelda could hear him whistling. She followed him into one of the wooden stable buildings, all the while keeping to the edges of the parade field. There was no reason why she shouldn't be here, but she didn't want to be observed.

When she entered the stable Link was already distributing hay into the troughs in front of each pen. He handled his pitchfork skillfully, wielding it as if it were a natural extension of his body. He noticed Zelda only a moment or two after she came in, and he waved to her without breaking his rhythm. She felt guilty about interrupting him, and as she made her way over she offered to help. He smiled and gestured toward another pitchfork hanging on a rack on the wall by the door. She took it and began transporting forkfuls of hay herself, grateful that Link had taken her up on her offer of assistance instead of making her feel like her presence was an inconvenience. Although she wasn't as adroit as Link, she enjoyed the exercise.

Once they were done, Link took her pitchfork and hung it back up along with his own while he related a humorous story about how the child of one of the visiting Rito aristocrats who had insisted on being given riding lessons. She always appreciated his cheerfulness, and she was even more grateful for his bright disposition after her conversation with Ganondorf.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked, making a seamless transition from his anecdote.

"Link, you've traveled a fair bit around Hyrule, haven't you?" she inquired.

"A fair bit, yes. I'd say so." He smiled, and it lit up his face like a sunbeam. "Are you getting wanderlust? Has the time finally come for you to run away with me?"

Zelda ignored him and continued. "Please don't tease me for saying this, but I only just learned that the Koriki don't actually look like Hylians. Am I the only person in Hyrule who didn't know this?"

To his credit, Link didn't laugh at her, but he couldn't quite manage to keep a straight face. Once he had recovered from his amusement, he answered. "Most people who live outside Castle Town probably know about Koroks. They're beastly little creatures. They like to play tricks on travelers, and they leave their droppings everywhere. Sometimes I think they make a game of it, honestly."

"But why wouldn't anyone have written about this? My interactions with them have been limited, but I've never had any reason to assume that the Kokiri weren't what they appeared to be. Isn't that precisely the sort of thing someone would want to record in a book?"

As she spoke, Link walked over to her, and when she was done he pinched both of her cheeks, wagging her face back and forth.

"Sweet Hylia, let me look at you, because I've never seen anyone so innocent and precious in my life."

Zelda batted him away. "Link, I'm serious," she insisted. "Why haven't I read about this? Is it really common knowledge?"

"Koroks are as common as cow paddies in a field, but no one thinks those are worth writing about either. They stay away from populated settlements and keep to wild areas, where they cause no end of trouble. But they're harmless and virtually indestructible, so no one pays them any mind. This is just a guess, but I think only a few of the older Koroks can shapeshift into Hylians, while the others probably become trees. Or bushes. Or swampgrass. Or something."

"Do you know anything about the Great Deku Tree? Is it – or he – one of them?"

The color suddenly drained from Link's face, and his smile vanished. "This is about Ganondorf, isn't it?" he asked softly.

"I... " Zelda was caught off guard and found herself at a loss for words. She considered prevaricating, but it was Ganondorf himself who had suggested that she speak to Link, after all. "Yes," she finally answered.

"So you got him to tell you where he's been going at night," Link muttered, shaking his head. "Good for you. Did you sleep with him?"

"Excuse me? Link, that's..." Zelda could feel the blood rush to her face, and she knew that any denial she offered would come off as insincere. "...that's, that's _rude_ ," she stammered.

Link made a face and snapped his fingers. "And I had my eye on him, too. Great Din, can you believe I thought I had a chance?"

"Link, we didn't sleep together," Zelda said, not knowing what Link was getting at.

"Not _yet_ , you didn't." Link let out a comically exasperated sigh. "Did you know that he won't shut up about you? Even Nabooru noticed, and that's despite the fact that she still sees him as a kid."

"You know Nabooru? How?"

"I do in fact know Nabooru." Link's shoulders slumped. "Where do I even begin?"

"How about you begin with Nabooru and end with the Great Deku Tree?" Zelda suggested.

"I suppose that now is as good a time as any," Link relented. "I've just wrapped up this round of chores, and I have an hour to spare. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to my office?"

"Your office?" Zelda raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get cheeky, princess," Link shot back at her. He gestured for her to follow him as he left the stable building.

"Speaking of cheeky, were you really interested in Ganondorf?"

"A boy can dream, can't he?"

"I always thought you had a thing for Barghest."

"And I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about that."

"Link, almost every single person who's met you is in love with you. How are you still single?"

"How about you don't rub it in?"

Link opened the door to a small shed built alongside one of the larger barns, and Zelda followed him inside. The room was comfortable yet cluttered, and there were books scattered everywhere. Zelda remembered the piles of books in Ganondorf's sitting room and couldn't stop herself from blushing. It had only been a few hours ago, but she still had trouble believing that they had actually...

"Milk?" Link interrupted her thoughts with an offer of a cold glass bottle covered in condensation, and Zelda accepted it.

They clinked the rims of their bottles together and drank. The milk was fresh and creamy, and it was even more satisfying after she had worked up a thirst in the dusty stable. They drained their bottles, and Link returned them to a small cistern, trading them for a cool, wet rag. He passed it to her, and she used it to clean her hands before giving it back to him. As Link used the opposite side to wipe his face, Zelda took a moment to appreciate how handsome he was. She wondered why someone like him, who was clearly well-read and spoke with no trace of a rural accent, would want to work at a stable, even if it was the royal stables of a castle.

When finished cleaning his face, Link picked up his guitar, which was leaning against the leg of a table covered in bridles and harnesses. He sat down on a wooden stool and began absent-mindedly tuning the instrument. Zelda took this as her cue to sit down on a bare wooden bench running along the length of the wall separating the shed from the main barn.

"I hope you'll forgive me for being perverse," Link eventually said, "but the best way to tell this story is in the exact opposite order of what you suggested. But it's not a long story. It goes like this: I was an orphan who grew up in the forest. When I was too old to stay there, I went to the desert. After that I came here. That's it, that's the story. Shall I tell you another?"

He continued fiddling with his guitar and didn't meet Zelda's eyes as he spoke.

"Link, I had no idea," she murmured. "I understand that this must be difficult for you to talk about, but I need to know what's going on. Ganondorf told me that some sort of calamity is about to strike Hyrule, and I'm inclined to believe him. He asked me to speak to you, and he told me that you know something. If I had to guess, I think that he didn't want to ask you himself. Can you help me?"

She leaned forward and touched his knee, and his hands stilled. He laid the guitar flat across his lap, but he still wouldn't look at her.

"I was raised by the Kokiri," he said in a quiet voice. "They appeared to me in the form of children like myself, and I didn't know that they were Koroks. I assume the Great Deku Tree ordered them to take care of me, and if this bothered them they never gave me any indication. I thought everything was normal until I noticed that they never aged. I'm not sure how old I am, but I must have been at least ten before I finally started to question why I was the only one getting older, and why none of us ever left the forest. The Great Deku Tree told me that I had been brought into the woods by a woman from the southern coast who became lost on her way to Hyrule. He told me that I was fated to leave the forest, and that I had a great destiny. And then he sent me on my way."

"And you were ten years old?" Zelda asked incredulously.

"I didn't see anything strange about it at the time. How could I?"

"So what was this 'great destiny' the tree told you about? Did it have something to do with Ganon?"

"It did, actually. The Deku Tree told me that I would defeat Ganon. I had no idea what that meant, but I took it very seriously. Every kid wants to fight monsters and save the world, right? I sure did, and that's why I went to the desert."

"You went to the desert immediately? And – just to be clear – you were ten?"

Finally she got a slight smile out of him. "I'm a lot more competent than I look, you know," he said with a wry expression.

"Surely you didn't just walk all the way across Hyrule."

"I did, if you would believe it. Thankfully, I got picked up by a group of Gerudo returning from Hyrule as I was making my way through the mountain pass into the desert. That's how I met Nabooru, who happened to be headed in the same direction."

"Nabooru, really. She doesn't seem as if she would be great with kids."

"She..." Link laughed, shook his head, and continued. "She most assuredly wasn't, but she was impressed when I escaped from her custody later that night. She had her personal guards track me down, and when they caught me she let me convince her to take me back to the city fortress."

"Somehow I doubt you convinced her of anything."

"I share your skepticism, but I think she was already planning to introduce me to Ganondorf."

"So you knew Ganondorf?"

"Not really. Even back then he kept to himself."

"What was he like?"

"What was he like?" Link rolled his eyes. "Just listen to yourself. What was he like? Is this the first time you've ever had a crush on someone?"

"Of course not. You're my first love, after all."

Link's smile grew brighter. "That's more like it. Anyway, Nabooru probably thought it would be funny for us to meet. She'd push me in front of Ganondorf, say 'This is the monster you're looking for,' watch both of us get confused, and have herself a good laugh. And that's more or less what happened. Ganondorf didn't seem to be the least bit interested in me, but I had nowhere else to go except the palace, so I stuck around. If Ganondorf wasn't Ganon, then maybe something else was, you know?"

Link picked up his guitar again and started strumming. "After a few months I forgot all about my great destiny. Not much was happening on that front, and in the meantime I started being used as a messenger boy. One of the palace officials apparently thought I'd make a good courier and took it upon herself to teach me how to ride. I didn't mind delivering mail, but I liked horses better, so I eventually moved into the palace stables."

"Because the sables were built into the mountain and had shade during the day, the flat ground outside was often used by teachers training girls in fencing and archery. I still took the whole 'destiny' thing seriously, and so I would watch them from the shadows and try to mimic their exercises. I most certainly wasn't fooling anyone, but it still took almost a year for one of the trainees to invite me to practice with them. I did fairly well against kids my own age. After another few months passed, I started to harbor the delusion that I might even have some talent."

"I always thought I would see Ganondorf, but he never attended practice. He was a prince, so I assumed that no one required him to fight if he didn't want to. When I was bold enough to make a joke about it, the girls laughed at me and told me that he trained with the adults. I don't know why I felt so competitive, but for some reason that irritated me. The women practiced directly under the sun during the afternoon. I was usually sleeping then, which is why I never saw him. I started lurking around the training grounds to watch them. Even though Ganondorf was good, he was no match for the adults. He saw me watching – they all did – but he ignored me. This irritated me even more, so I waited until I finally saw him by himself to challenge him to a one-on-one battle."

Link stopped talking, and Zelda watched as an expression of discomfort floated across his face. "What happened?" she prompted.

"I think I may have actually had some measure of skill. Then again, anyone who trained with the Gerudo would have become skilled; they all took it very seriously. So maybe I had talent, and I had confidence, but I was still too green to understand what it meant that Ganondorf lost sparring matches against trained adults. I had no idea what true skill was until I fought him. I assumed he was a pampered aristocrat. He was on the small side for a Gerudo and kind of a nerd, but the way he fought was beauty itself. When he sparred against the women, it was like an experiment for him. He wasn't happy until he'd pushed himself to his limits or seen something he'd never be shown unless he created an opening. After exchanging a few blows with me, he seemed to understand that I had nothing to teach him, and he defeated me soundly. What really pissed me off was that he was kind about it. He enjoyed himself, but he didn't taunt me or try to rub it in."

"The Gerudo have a saying that the true measure of quality is when someone with a little talent is confronted with real genius. That's exactly how I felt with Ganondorf. It humiliated me that I lost to him, especially since I had underestimated him so badly. He was my age, but it was almost as if he wasn't even on the same plane of reality. I realized that I would never be as good as him no matter how hard I worked."

Once again Link fell silent. Zelda knew that it would do no good to try to comfort or reassure him, so instead she focused her attention on the melody he played. He was repeating variations on the same refrain, which became stuck in Zelda's mind as she listened.

"That's when I lost all desire to be a hero," Link muttered. "It just didn't seem like it was worth it anymore. It wasn't so much that losing against Ganondorf made me bitter, but rather that he expressed something in the way he fought, some sort of grace, that made me not want to fight him. The worst thing is that, after our match, he started to come to the stables more often. I was young and stupid, but not young and stupid enough not to know that he was trying to be my friend. He was so serious all the time, nothing like the girls my own age, and I couldn't bear his kindness. I wanted to hate him for making me feel like I'd never become a hero, but I couldn't."

"But maybe I'm making this deeper than it is." Link laughed and shook his head. "I was starting to become a teenager, and I think I was just being a little shit. I was insufferable even to myself, so I picked up and left the Gerudo. I traveled a bit more while doing odd jobs here and there. I would occasionally run into someone I once knew, but I never went back to the desert."

"Mmmm." Zelda smiled. "It sounds like you were the one with the crush."

"You're one to talk. Can you blame me?"

"Even if you don't want to be a hero, do you still think you have, what was it? A great destiny?"

Link returned her smile. "I'm not interested in that. All I want to do is eat good food and ride around when the weather is nice. But..."

"But what?"

"Maybe _you_ do. Have a great destiny, that is."

"Perhaps I do." Zelda sighed as she stood and clapped the dust from her clothing. "If only I knew how to go about pursuing it. I'm not sure how to make sense of all of this. How odd it is that the three of us were drawn together. Coincidences like this don't happen very often."

Link put down his guitar and stood alongside her. "Before you get in over your head, I think you should understand exactly what you're getting yourself into."

He walked to a shelf crammed with various books and tools, inserted his hand into the mess, and withdrew a small silver key. "You need to learn how the Gerudo queen died. The only person who really understood what happened was your mother. I've heard a rumor that she has some diaries locked away somewhere. I thought I would investigate this for myself, but like I said, I have no interest in being a hero."

"Where did you get this?" Zelda frowned as Link gave her the key.

"Better not to ask," he replied with a wink.

"That sounds reasonable," Zelda agreed amiably, making a mental note to speak with Impa about this later.

"And about Ganondorf," Link added, "the attraction you feel for him might not what you think it is. I can't put my finger on what's bothering me, but I'd keep my distance from him if I were you."

"Are you really sure that you don't still have a thing for him?"

Link's face grew suddenly serious. "There's something wrong with the dragon that guards the Fire Temple of the Gorons," he said. "And there's something horribly wrong with Jabun as well. The Zora are keeping it a secret, but their queen is deathly ill, and there's a reason why Darunia's son didn't accompany him to Hyrule. I think he may have been attacked, and I think he might be dying. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that something has happened to the Great Deku Tree as well. Ganondorf isn't a bad person, but underneath his kindness..."

Link trailed off, shook his head, and continued. "I'm not sure how to explain it. Just promise me you won't let your guard down around him. Be careful, Zelda."


	19. The Two Princesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda greets the Zora princess Ruto, who finally arrives to the Hylian court in a gorgeous swirl of bright smiles and shining fins.

“You need to find the truth about my mother,” Ganondorf told her, and Link seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Zelda was more than a little annoyed with both of the them for not simply telling her what she needed to know. Either the truth was too terrible to be spoken aloud, or neither of them really knew anything. Zelda regularly dealt with intrigue over the course of her daily administrative duties and didn’t have much patience for conspiracy theories, and she suspected the latter. Nevertheless, she knew exactly what the silver key Link had given her would unlock, and she had every intention of using it. Even with her considerable skill, however, it wouldn’t be easy to sneak into her father’s private study. Thankfully, she now had an ally at court.

Ruto had arrived late in the evening, her standard-bearers proceeding her by mere hours. One of the many qualities Zelda admired about Ruto was her decisiveness; she seemed to feel a complete absence of guilt for doing whatever she wanted whenever she felt it was necessary to do it. If Ruto no longer felt the need to trouble herself over Jabun, then there was nothing stopping her from traveling to Hyrule, and she so did without wasting any additional time.

Zelda was struck giddy with the anticipation of seeing her dear friend in person again. She remained at court much later than usual as she awaited Ruto’s arrival, and she enjoyed herself to such an extent that Impa apparently felt the need to appear at her side at occasional intervals to limit her alcohol consumption.

When Ruto finally made her appearance, she was beautiful and magnificent, her scales shining like the moon over the sea and her lithe form accentuated by a shimmering violet gown. She was not disheveled in the slightest from her journey across Hyrule, nor did she appear to be fatigued. She offered warm smiles and kind words to all the nobles and courtiers who approached her after her entrance into the Great Hall was formally announced. When she was finally able to make her way to the king, she allowed Daphnes to sweep her up into a big bear hug. All through the night she caught Zelda’s gaze and winked meaningfully, as if to say _Look at me, I’m so good at this, I’m so good at being a princess_ , which had been a private joke between them when they were much younger.

Ruto’s company was in such high demand that Zelda realized she would have to use the clout of her high blood to push her way to the front of the crowd, and when she made her greeting to the visiting princess she couched it in such flowery language that Ruto could only listen to her for a minute or two before bursting into laughter. As the two princesses clasped arms and grinned at one another, a tuning note from the lead violin of the orchestra cut through the chatter of the gathering, and before Zelda knew what was happening Ruto had pulled her into the center of a circle and grasped her by the waist. Zelda giggled as she allowed herself to be led in a dance, her skirts swirling alongside Ruto’s.

After the first stanza was completed, other couples joined them on the floor, which Zelda understood as her cue to take Ruto by the crook of her arm and shepherd her to a more secluded area. As they were walking with their arms linked toward one of the shaded corners behind the hall’s pillars, however, they were accosted by Darunia, who clasped his huge hands on their respective shoulders from behind.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes,” he proclaimed in his booming voice. “The court is getting more gorgeous by the day! My girl, your coronation is going to sparkle like nothing I’ve ever seen, and believe me, I _know_ shiny,” he continued, slapping Zelda on the back. Zelda stumbled a bit from the force of the blow, and Ruto caught her, beaming merrily all the while.

“Excuse me,” a small voice spoke up from just beside them. Zelda looked down and saw the most handsome child she’d ever encountered. He had silky autumn-gold hair and piercing green eyes to match, and he was clad in a long feathery tunic resembling interlocking leaves of various shades of umber and olive.

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met, Your Highness, but I am Makar,” the boy explained.

Zelda blinked and experienced a moment of double sight. There was a boy standing beside her and offering his hand to be taken in greeting, but also something entirely different – a slim and willowy creature with mottled bark wearing a leaf as a mask that was cut with a pattern of triangles in an off-center approximation of a face. _So this is a Korok_ , Zelda realized.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Zelda said, extending her fingers, and then the Korok’s twiggy branch was once again a plump and rosy-skinned Hylian hand. “You must forgive me for not seeking your acquaintance earlier, sir.”

The boy gave a good-natured laugh and shook Zelda’s hand in both of his. “I’m actually sexed as female,” he said. “We all are, but I prefer to take a male form. And you can call me Makar; it’s just as much of a name as it is a title.” He nodded at her and then turned to Ruto. “It’s an honor to meet you as well, Your Highness. I arrived this evening right behind you, just a moment ago.”

“Why didn’t you announce yourself properly?” Ruto asked, never one to hold back on bluntly inquiring after what she wanted to know.

Makar cocked his chin at Darunia, who was grinning down at him with a full set of teeth. “I didn’t want this big lug to know I was here yet,” he replied, answering Darunia’s wide smile with one of his own. Zelda was amused to note that there was a slight gap between his front teeth. It was charming, and Zelda appreciated how much effort must have put into the illusion he was maintaining for her benefit.

“I hope you brought your fiddle, little buddy, because I’m in the mood to dance tonight. Let’s take you over to Daphnes and show that old lion how to get this party started!”

“I think this is a good opportunity for us to leave,” Ruto whispered to Zelda. Without giving her time to excuse herself politely, Ruto grabbed Zelda’s hand and practically dragged her through the Great Hall.

By the time they were in the corridor outside they were practically running.

“I’ll race you, ninja girl,” Ruto challenged her, and then they _were_ running, their feet moving so quickly that their heels barely made a sound.

Ruto led Zelda on a mad chase through the castle to the quarters assigned to the Zora dignitaries. There were two tall and muscular Zora guards stationed outside the suite with silver spears at the ready, and Ruto flirtatiously kissed both of them on their cheeks as Zelda paused to catch her breath. The guards shook their heads at Ruto’s brazenness and gave slight bows to Zelda as they opened the doors for the two women.

As soon as they were inside, Ruto kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head without bothering to unlace it. The Zora didn’t usually bother with Hylian fashion, which they tended to find cumbersome, and Ruto sighed with contentment as she unlatched the jewelry at her neck and wrists.

Zelda knew Ruto was headed straight for the large pool of water in the suite, so she began undressing as well. A Zora attendant appeared as if from nowhere to help her out of her formal gown, while another collected Ruto’s cast-off finery from the floor where she’d left it laying.

“Don’t touch her hair,” Ruto ordered her attendants. “That’s my job.” She winked at Zelda. “Now let’s get wet. I feel so dehydrated… I could soak for days.”

Zelda allowed one of the Zora attendants to wrap her in a towel to help preserve her modesty before she followed Ruto into the bathing chamber, and she only discarded it after she stepped into the warm water. She knew that the Zora generally cared nothing for Hylian nakedness, but she was still a bit embarrassed to be seen completely in the nude.

The pool, whose bottom extended into the castle’s first basement level, was fairly deep, and Zelda had to swim to join Ruto on one of the tiled lounging shelves extending from its sides.

“You swim like a frog,” Ruto teased.

“Yeah, well, you run like a fish,” Zelda shot back.

“You know what goes well with a good bath?” Ruto asked her. “Sparkling wine. And wouldn’t you know it, I see some heading this way right now.”

Zelda blushed fiercely and suppressed a strong urge to cover herself as a Zora groom approached them with a serving tray bearing two finely shaped glass vessels filled with fizzing pale liquid.

Ruto rose gracefully to the surface of the water and took both of them. “These glasses are Gerudo-made, you know,” she remarked as she passed one to Zelda. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she asked rhetorically before taking a sip.

At mention of the word “Gerudo,” Zelda blushed an even deeper shade of pink, and it gave her a secret thrill of pleasure to touch her lips to the rim of the glass. She knew she shouldn’t have more than just a taste, especially not this late at night, and especially not while soaking in such warm water, but the wine was heavenly, delicately flavorful but not too sweet.

Meanwhile, Ruto had already drained her glass. She scooted over to sit next to Zelda.

“Let me play with your hair,” she commanded.

“Only if you tell me about Jabun,” Zelda countered, emboldened by the alcohol.

“Oh, I will. Girl, you are never going to hear the end of it if you get me started,” she said as she began unhooking the pins holding Zelda’s hair in a braided bun. “But if you know about Jabun, then you probably know a few other things too. I wonder… Just how much _do_ you know? Before I tell you about Jabun, why don’t you tell me about Ganondorf?”

Zelda tensed at the mention of his name, and Ruto laughed. “Come on, friend, dish it. I know he’s had his eyes on you.”

Zelda drained her glass, and perhaps the alcohol had gone to her head, for her next words surprised her. “I don’t know what to make of him,” she said. “He’s like spiced wine, something that’s so delicious but so potent that it makes me leave this world just for an instant. He’s like an oasis in all the mundane nonsense of my life, a fountain with the moon inside, and I want to reach inside and touch it…”

Ruto raised her facial fins dramatically.

“Oh blessed Nayru, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Zelda excused herself, laughing.

“I know exactly what you’re saying. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Ruto shook her head, still grinning as she continued to unpin Zelda’s hair. “Not that I can say I blame you. He’s a handsome one, all right, and he certainly has his charms. Unfortunately…” Ruto trailed off, and one of the corners of her mouth twitched before she continued. “I don’t think ‘charms’ are all he has. You know that boy is dangerous, right?”

“Trust me, I know. Better than anyone, probably,” Zelda leaned back into Ruto’s cool embrace. She could feel herself growing drowsy, but she still had things she needed to say while she had this opportunity to speak to Ruto in relative privacy. “That’s why I want to talk with you about Jabun, and also… There’s something I need you to do for me tomorrow night.”


	20. The Two Queens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda uncovers a collection of letters that were never meant to be seen.

The next evening’s court began with a magnificent feast. Zelda’s coronation ceremony was only three days away, an important milestone that demanded an elaborate celebration. Publicly Zelda was grateful that Hyrule was a prosperous kingdom that could easily afford such extravagance, while privately she was relieved that she didn’t have to manage the budget herself.

The meal proceeding this particular court was more ceremonial than most. Various speeches were given as all manner of traditional dishes from all the tribes of Hyrule were served, each conveying wishes for good fortune expressed in symbolic fashion. It was event of no minor significance, and even Ganondorf was present. Zelda was not the least bit surprised by his eloquence when he was called on to give a toast, but she was impressed to see just how charming and sociable he could be when he put in the effort. He was dressed in finely tailored clothing that suited him well, and he had trimmed and tamed his hair, perhaps in an effort to make himself appear more presentable. To Zelda’s amusement, he also seemed to have grown the beginnings of a beard. Zelda remained close to Ruto’s side all evening, but she couldn’t help sneaking glances at Ganondorf from across the room. He met her gaze with a sly smile whenever he caught her looking, but he never left his seat to position himself closer to her.

He could pretend to be coy if he wanted to, for Zelda knew that he was looking at her as well. She had allowed Ruto to dress her for the occasion, and she felt as beautiful as a mermaid in her Zora-woven gown, whose fabric lay as lightly as gossamer against her skin. The Zora dignitaries accompanying Ruto had presented her with jewelry and hair ornaments made of luminescent scales during an audience of state earlier that day, and Zelda wore them proudly, delighting in how they made her face shine. Zelda usually disliked this sort of ostentatious adornment, but her awareness of how she caught and held Ganondorf’s eyes when he thought she wasn’t paying attention made her feel sparkling and brilliant.

Ruto’s cheerful presence beside her enhanced her mood, so much so that she found she was actually enjoying herself during the lengthy banquet. Ruto had a habit of treating everyone she met like a close friend, and Zelda appreciated the way she skillfully steered and directed the conversation with their tablemates. People began circulating once the first half dozen courses had been served, and Zelda soon found herself and Ruto in the middle of a swirling whirlpool of activity. With Ruto’s help she was able to manage the crowd, saying exactly what needed to be said and blithely ignoring what didn’t. She even allowed herself to flirt with a few of the men who had presented themselves to her as potential suitors, knowing full well that Ganondorf was watching her.

She knew Impa was watching as well, and she regretted that her friend couldn’t join her as Ruto did. Once she was fully instated as queen she would have something to say about how the Sheikah were treated and expected to behave, and the success of this evening’s ceremonial dinner gave her a sliver of confidence that she might actually make a decent queen one day.

Nevertheless, that was all in the future, and her goal at this particular moment in time lay elsewhere. Once the meal was over and the assembly gradually shifted itself to the Great Hall, Impa was to discretely steer Darunia over to her father so that Ruto could present them both with a bottle of the wine she and Zelda had sampled the previous evening. Ruto did so, and then she prompted Darunia and Daphnes to tell her stories of her own father, winking at Zelda that she was in the clear once the reminiscences had begun in earnest. Impa then came for Zelda and escorted her out of the crowded room. People pretended not to see her exit, for no one would dare approach the princess when she was with her Sheikah guardian.

Once they’d left the Great Hall and were a safe distance down the hallway outside, Impa clasped Zelda’s hands in hers and pressed their foreheads together.

“Farore give you courage, Princess,” Impa whispered with a grin. “But I can assure you that you won’t be disturbed, at least not immediately. Sneak through the king’s rooms to your heart’s content.”

“It’s not sneaking,” Zelda replied sanctimoniously. “It’s research.”

“Of course. But don’t ‘research’ too long, because I’ll have no way to signal you if you’re in danger of being disturbed.”

Zelda nodded and squeezed Impa’s hands, genuinely grateful for the reminder. There would be questions if she were caught, and she didn’t want the king involved in any of this, not yet. She had a feeling that there was something he was hiding from her, and she wanted to have the upper hand when she confronted him about all of this – her mother’s death, the lack of diplomacy between Hyrule and the Gerudo, and Ganondorf’s chilly reception in her castle.

She slipped into one of the narrow servant’s corridors and then from there to an old stone staircase so remote and neglected that it was practically a secret passage. She had left her satchel containing the silver key and ocarina there earlier, and as she retrieved it she exchanged her heels for the soft padded sandals the Sheikah used to move silently. She also removed her jewelry, as lovely as it was, for she no longer had any use for it. She wished she could have changed out of her gown as well, but she had no time to waste.

Zelda moved quickly and quietly along her planned route, and in mere minutes she was standing within her father’s study. Only a single gaslamp had been left aglow, but thankfully she had brought a small portable lantern with her. She removed it from her satchel, ignited its wick, and made her way to the chest where her mother’s effects were kept. Even in the dim light Zelda could see that its lid was dusty and marked only with streaks that her father must have made when he withdrew the ocarina to give to her.

As Zelda carefully fitted the silver key to the lock, she was overcome by a surge of emotion. She adored her father, truly she did. He was a capable king – much more than capable, actually, he was brilliant – and yet he always made time for her. He was generous with his affection, yet he had never been condescending and always treated her as a partner of equal rank. It was because of his guidance and support that she was able to manage her duties, and no one in the entire kingdom was more thrilled than her father that she would become Hyrule’s next queen. Unlike the princess in her vision, she had never been a bird in a cage; if anything, Daphnes had trained her to spread her wings like the eagle on the royal family’s crest. If he had never spoken to her of her mother after her death, then he must have had his reasons. Zelda loved her father, but there was so much she didn’t know about him. She had always thought that, perhaps one day, when they were both older, he would invite her into his confidence. In the meantime, she had no choice but to seek answers for herself, yet she couldn’t deny the guilt she felt as she gingerly lifted the lid of the chest with the tips of her nails.

The faint scent that drifted up from the opened chest was unmistakably that of her mother, and Zelda was struck by a wave of nostalgia so strong that she had to bite her lip to force herself not to tear up. She took a deep breath and got to work examining the contents.

On top of a pile of folded garments was a small pocket telescope that her father had once given the queen as a present; Zelda remembered her mother telling her that he had proposed to her while they were stargazing. There were scarves beautifully dyed in her mother’s favorite lily-of-the-valley pattern, and monogrammed handkerchiefs that her mother must have embroidered herself, and a tarnished silver hairbrush with a few strands of honey golden hair still caught in its spines, and a spool of what looked like wire for the hand harp that her mother had favored, and some undershirts that must have been too intimate to be given away or repurposed, and then even more garments, all the way down to the bottom of the chest.

 _What was this supposed to teach me?_ Zelda thought in irritation. She sighed and applied the palm of her hand to the smooth surface of the pile of clothing, at the top of which was a bright scarlet shawl with a delicate silver fringe that she was sure she had never seen her mother wear in the castle. She enjoyed the tactile sensation of the texture of its fine weave, but as she pressed her hand down against it she felt something strange. Giving up any pretense of keeping everything neatly folded, she rummaged through the clothing until she found a leather folio. Its edges were completely sealed shut, with no clasps or hinges.

 _This is it_ , Zelda realized, and she instinctively knew what to do. She held the folio in both hands and hummed the melody that opened the underground passage leading outside the castle, and as the song progressed the perfectly joined leather seams split open.

Inside were letters, more letters than Zelda thought could possibly have fit into such a slim folio. To Zelda’s surprise, they were all written in Gerudo. She quickly realized that they must have been written by the former Gerudo queen.

 _It was so good to see you again, my darling_ , read a paragraph at the beginning of the first letter. _How far you travel from your castle, and just to see me! One day you must remind me to ask you what excuses you use on your parents. My mother has a task waiting for me every time I so much as sit down to catch my breath, and I have to write to you by candlelight. The desert night is cold, but it makes me warm to sit in the soft glow of the flame and remember your visit._

Zelda smiled to herself as she skimmed the rest of the pages. She knew her mother had been good friends with the Gerudo queen, but this was almost like a love letter. There was nothing of consequence in the rest of the message, so she moved on to the next letter.

 _The tea you sent me is so bitter_ , the Gerudo queen – or would she still have been a princess then? – wrote after her opening pleasantries. _No wonder you Hylians use so much sugar. But if it’s a blend made from herbs you planted in your own garden, then it needs no sugar; it is your own taste, pure and simple. As I drink it I think of you, and the way you tasted on that afternoon…_

Zelda felt her cheeks flush with crimson as she blushed violently. Yes, these were definitely love letters. But had her mother felt the same way? Zelda flipped through the pages, embarrassed by their contents. Apparently her mother had indeed returned the queen’s affections, for she continued to send presents and visit the city in the desert, and the relationship between the two women only grew stronger. Even though she only skimmed her eyes over the words written in gently flowing Gerudo cursive, phrases still jumped out at her.

_…your hair holds the smell of rain that outlasts stone…_

_…the sweat that dries in swirling patterns on your skin…_

_…our souls so excited by sweetness that peaches bloom even in the sand…_

Zelda continued flipping through the folio, which must have been enchanted in more ways than one, for it contained volumes of letters and thousands of words. But was it really a secret that her mother and the Gerudo queen had been lovers? These sorts of things happened all the time; and, in any case, a relationship that lasted so many years in such intimacy could not have remained a secret for long.

Again she wondered what she was supposed to be looking for. She was even more uncomfortable with reading her mother’s letters than she was at betraying her father’s privacy, and she was acutely aware of how much time had already passed since she had invaded the king’s private study. Zelda let out a deep breath and skipped to the end of the stack, where the letters became much shorter and the penmanship much less confident and flowing.

 _You must have heard the rumors by now_ , began one of these letters without preamble, _but I wanted to let you know firsthand that it’s not merely a rumor. I must confess that it’s true. But I swore to you that I would not give false hope to my suitors, and I kept my word, as I always have. But my dear, I missed you, and so I left the palace. I can’t blame you for your own marriage, yet sometimes I can’t bear it, and I wanted to drink in peace, if only to forget you for a moment. There was a traveler from the other side of the desert, and though he was no one special I allowed him to charm me, and once was all it took. I want to think that my body craved a child, a child that should have been impossible, but a child that we could share…_

 _So that was Ganondorf_ , Zelda realized. She skipped over the rest of the pages, which were far too personal for her to read in such a rushed situation, and moved on to the next letter.

 _Yes, it is a son_ , a phrase caught her eye. _I thought to extinguish his life before anyone noticed, but I was weak and could not do it. I prayed he would do us all a favor and die on his own, but he is strong and refuses to succumb to the sickness that takes so many males from us. Since his birth and health became known the rejoicing has been endless, and I must be brave, for no one knows of the legends except the two of us. Perhaps this child is a curse, but I cannot find the right opportunity to rid myself of the burden he had imposed on us. Send me herbs, my love, or send me sugar to substitute for milk, or send me yourself, please, please, please…_

The letter continued on in this vein for some time, and Zelda could hardly bear to look at it. Reading between the lines, it was clear to her that Ganondorf’s mother did indeed love him and would never be able to hurt him. But what was this curse she spoke of? What did this woman and her own mother know that they could only hint at it, even in their own private messages to one another?

The next letter was apparently a response to a formal announcement of Zelda’s birth, which was perhaps the only reply her mother had sent in the wake of the queen’s letter. It was the closest thing to a lover’s quarrel that Zelda had encountered in their correspondence, and the Gerudo queen’s anger practically leapt off the page.

 _You said you would be true to our promise_ , she wrote, _and now you have a daughter, a tiny blessed daughter. My son alone is bad enough, but now you’ve gone and named this wretched girl Zelda. Gods, to think that I ever trusted you. This curse is well and truly upon us, but you should know, you damned Hylian whore, that I have never loved you more. If nothing else, we are sisters in our suffering; at the very least the past haunts us both equally._

Despite the sour rancor embedded in these words, Zelda couldn’t help smirking. This is exactly the sort of dramatic pronouncement that Ganondorf was overly fond of making. _Like mother, like son_ , she thought, rolling her eyes. The tragedy waiting at the end of the queens’ affair was difficult to process, and Zelda knew she would more than likely ruminate over it later, alone in the darkness of her own solitary tower room, but in the present moment she found that the well of her sympathy was surprisingly shallow. How did the two queens expect that their affair would conclude? Did they really think their love would last forever, if neither of them was willing to sacrifice the full powers of her sovereignty for the sake of the other?

In any case, this must have ended their correspondence for years, for the next letter was a formal acceptance of an invitation to visit Hyrule. This must have been when Ganondorf came to the castle with his mother during the visit that Zelda herself remembered.

At the very bottom of the pile was a curious piece of paper. It wasn’t quite a letter, and Zelda could still see the sharp lines of its creases. It must have been hidden in another letter, or perhaps delivered by a trusted messenger.

Written on the paper in block letters different from the queen’s usual cursive was an urgent plea for Zelda’s mother to her to visit the desert alone, not as a representative of Hyrule, but in secret. _I miss you so much I can’t stand it_ , the queen wrote, and that was the end of it.

When she picked up the note to examine it more closely, Zelda saw that there was a second sheet of thin wax paper adhering to the thicker parchment of the first message. Zelda carefully pried away its edges and was confronted with an amateur botanical illustration accompanied by nothing more than a simple label. The Gerudo name of the flower could be translated as either “Nayru’s Blessing” or “Nayru’s Curse,” but the illustration was not so crude that Zelda didn’t know exactly what she was looking at – a Silent Princess.


	21. The Lost Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two vengeful curses are laid by two wielders of divine power.

Zelda rapped on the outer door of Ganondorf’s rooms with her knuckles.

“Come in,” he said in a clear voice from the other side of the door. He spoke in Gerudo, and Zelda had a brief moment to wonder who he thought he was addressing before she entered.

She closed the door behind her, and when she turned to face him he was gazing at her with an expression of intense interest.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly.

For a moment she was at a loss for how to respond to him. He was standing next to a bookcase while holding a large leather-bound volume in both hands. The books on the shelves were in a state of complete disarray, as if he had been picking them up, rifling through them, and putting them down at random. Instead of gaslights or lanterns, he had placed some sort of small globular contraptions in the spaces between books. They emitted a soft golden light that was still bright enough to read by. In their glow she could see that the number of plants in the room had increased since she last been here. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had placed a small tray of what looked like flowering rue on one of the shelves, and the slightly protruding middle ledge supported a vase of white foxgloves. He had also placed an earthen pot containing a pothos plant on top of the bookshelf, and its thick vines hung down to catch the sun that must have streamed in from the windows during the afternoon. What in the sacred names of the goddesses was this man _doing_ with so many plants and flowers in here?

Zelda briefly regretted her decision to confront Ganondorf immediately after leaving the king’s quarters, especially dressed as she was, in a gown and sandals, with her hair just as messy as his bookshelf. She knew how she must look, but she couldn’t very well excuse herself now.

She withdrew the folded note that she had found at the bottom of her mother’s chest and held it out to him along with the small illustration that had been affixed to it.

“This is – was – your mother’s. That is to say, she sent it to my mother.”

Ganondorf put the book he was holding down next to the vase of foxgloves and walked over to her. He took the two sheets of paper from her hand and studied them briefly.

“I thought as much,” he said, his face betraying no emotion. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it hidden in a chest of the late queen’s personal effects. There were other letters as well, but I’m afraid I don’t understand what this implies. What did your mother want, exactly?”

“I assume she wanted me killed.”

Although she had no desire to admit it to Ganondorf, that had been Zelda’s conclusion as well. She’d more or less been able to piece together the story on her own, but she still needed confirmation before she made arbitrary assumptions.

“But the poison never found its way to you,” she prompted.

“Obviously.” An unreadable look crossed Ganondorf’s face, and he crushed the paper in his fist. Before Zelda could say anything, flames leapt up from between his closed fingers, and in an instant his entire hand was wreathed in fire.

Zelda couldn’t manage to suppress a small gasp, but she forced herself to remain calm as her mind raced. She had no intention of continuing a conversation with Ganondorf if his reaction was to start setting things on fire, but the intensity of his response signaled to Zelda that she no longer needed any sort of corroboration for her hypothesis. Ganondorf’s mother had wanted him to die, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it with her own hands, so she had asked the Queen of Hyrule to do it for her. Regretting her decision at the last moment, however, she must have ingested the tea brewed with the petals of the Silent Princess herself, and it had killed her. Her own mother had died shortly thereafter. Either she had been so consumed with guilt that she had taken her own life or the Gerudo had suspected her of murder and surreptitiously taken the matter into their own hands, but the result was the same either way.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Zelda muttered. “I had… I really had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as your mother, apparently.”

Zelda winced at Ganondorf’s cruelty. _Strike him_ , a voice whispered like a chill winter wind from the back of her mind, and she had to exercise every ounce of her willpower not to give in to the urge to do precisely that.

“What drove them to do this?” she asked instead.

Ganondorf relaxed his fist, and the flames surrounding it faded. There was no ash on his palm, nor any trace of the paper he’d been holding. Once again his face was as smooth as a mask.

“What drove them to do this?” he repeated her question. “Me, apparently.”

“Just because there’s some sort of legend that Gerudo males are cursed? I refuse to believe that.”

“Who’s to say that Gerudo males aren’t cursed? You’ve seen the proof with your own eyes. We both have. Curse or no curse, the only thing either us has seen in your visions is war.”

 _That’s not all we saw_ , Zelda thought, remembering how he had kissed her, but she held her tongue.

“But why does there always have to be some sort of conflict?” she demanded instead. “Why does it have to be like this?”

“Did Link tell you about the Master Sword when you spoke to him?”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“How do you know that I talked to Link?”

“He suggested as much to Nabooru, and she told me.” Ganondorf shrugged. “I’ve tried speaking with him myself, but I can never get him to be serious. I suppose I can’t blame him. He is destined to kill me, after all.”

Zelda shook her head, flustered at the strange turn this conversation had taken. She considered her options and decided that it was easiest simply to trust that what Ganondorf was telling her was true. If the ocarina and its magic were real, then the Master Sword must be real as well.

“If Link is the hero, then he would indeed wield the Master Sword, but he’s never said anything about it. At least, not to me. But…” Zelda paused for a moment as she thought, trying to remember what she had read in various sources. “The Master Sword is part of the magic that seals whatever darkness is supposed to be lurking just under the surface of Hyrule, and if it’s drawn from its pedestal then the seal will be broken. It’s said that it can only be drawn in the most dire of circumstances, when the evil in Hyrule is already greater than what would be unleashed by breaking the seal. There’s a lot I don’t know about what happens in this kingdom, but surely there’s no cause for Link to have to draw the Master Sword, not now. I know him, he wouldn’t…”

“You don’t know anything about him,” Ganondorf snarled. The undisguised fury on his face frightened her. She had seen Ganondorf angry, but never like this. She took a step back, and the expression on his face rapidly shifted to something resembling shame. In that moment Zelda realized how frightened he was, and how difficult it must be for him to control his emotions while discussing whatever curse had caused his mother’s death and would presumably result in his own as well. Nevertheless, she refused to respond to this burst of rage and fixed her own face into a cold frown of displeasure as she met his eyes.

Ganondorf looked away first. “The Master Sword is located somewhere in this castle,” he said, obviously struggling to maintain a calm tone of voice. “There would be no other reason for Link to come here. He loves animals, he always has, but I can only assume that he found a position as a menial laborer because servants tend to know things that pass beneath the eyes of their employers. If there’s a secret to be found, that would have been the best way for him to find it, and I’d stake my life on the guess that he located what he was looking for almost immediately. I’ve never met a more restless person in my life, and I can assure you that the only reason he stays here is to be close to that sword.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” Zelda replied. “But let’s just say that all of this is true. Even if the Master Sword is here in the castle, and even if Link does know exactly where it is, and even if he does for some reason feel a compulsion to be close to it, what makes you think that he would ever use it?”

“He’ll use it,” Ganondorf said, turning his back to her as he returned to the bookshelf.

Zelda hated it when people walked away from her, and she made no attempt to conceal the irritation in her voice when she responded to him. “He won’t use it if I don’t tell him to. If he’s the hero of legend, then I’m the princess of legend, and I’m the one giving the orders.”

“He’ll use it whether you ask him to or not. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the person he’s pledged his loyalty to.”

“Then who is?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s a spy for the king.”

“Oh…” Zelda exhaled. She hadn’t noticed; but, now that Ganondorf stated it boldly as a fact, a great many things started to make sense to her. The sudden rush of information made her feel faint, and she realized that she had been standing just inside the doorway of the sitting room and talking to Ganondorf for quite some time.

“That’s a problem for both of us, then, isn’t it,” she said in a flat voice. “Are you going to invite me to sit down, or are we just going to stand here making accusations at each other all night?”

“Fine. Come in. Sit down. Make yourself at home,” Ganondorf said, his words clipped.

Zelda walked over to the couch with as much dignity as she could muster and sat, lifting the hem of her gown to cross her legs as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Now offer me tea,” she ordered.

Ganondorf turned to her with an incredulous look on his face. “You just found out that your mother killed mine with an herbal infusion, and now you want tea?”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Zelda replied, making an angry gesture with her hand. “You’ve known this all along. And you’ve kept it from me, lording the secret over me like my ignorance gave you some sort of power. And your mother isn’t the only person who ended up dead, so don’t act like you have the right to get upset with me. All this time we’ve been sharing visions of past wars that both of our mothers died to prevent from recurring. So yes, I think you owe me the common courtesy of giving me something to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“Great Din, you haven’t changed at all since you were a girl. How could I have forgotten how goddamn bossy you are?” Ganondorf rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so inane that Zelda couldn’t help smirking. “But fine, have some tea,” he continued. “Be my guest. You’re in luck that I already have some brewed and put on ice. I’ll pour you a glass, if it suits Your Highness. Or would you prefer to watch me go through the trouble of making fresh tea myself?”

“Chilled tea will be fine. Be a dear and try not to poison it.”

“I’ll do my best to refrain.” Ganondorf lifted a corner of his mouth in a vague approximation of a grin. “But what would you do, if I did?”

“I’d die, I suppose.” Zelda shrugged. “But I’m going to be queen in what, two days now? Think of all the plans that will have to be canceled. I’m serious, just think of all the banquets you’d no longer have to attend. Of course, I wouldn’t have to go either, so you might just be doing both of us a favor.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Ganondorf nodded sagely. “I can’t deny that I’m tempted, but a lot of cake would go to waste.”

“Wasted cake? How much cake are we talking about here?”

“If only you know,” Ganondorf said as he made his way over to an icebox built directly into the stone floor. He withdrew a handsome glass carafe filled with pale golden tea and covered in condensation. “I’ve been to the kitchens, and I’ve seen what’s being prepared for your coronation. There are hills of cake, mountains of cake, cake beyond your wildest imagining.”

Zelda smiled in satisfaction. She didn’t care for cake herself, but she remembered that Ganondorf had a sweet tooth, and it amused her to know that he hadn’t outgrown it. “You have access to some of the most powerful magic in Hyrule, and that’s how you use it? To sneak cake out of the kitchen?”

“Of course,” he answered, offering her a glass of cold tea with mint leaves floating on its surface. “A man has to eat.”

“I could have you arrested for treason.” Zelda took a sip of the tea. It was delicious and refreshing, and she suddenly found that she was incredibly thirsty. She threw her head back as she drained the glass.

Ganondorf smirked down at her. “You’d have to call it _treat_ son.’”

Zelda almost choked as she swallowed. _Did he actually try to make a joke?_ she thought, coughing. “Is that supposed to be funny in Gerudo?” she asked once she recovered.

“I’ll have you know that I’m much more charming in Gerudo. You should really learn to speak it.”

“I should, actually,” Zelda agreed. She could read the language with almost perfect fluency, but she had never had any occasion to practice speaking it, and she wasn’t confident that she could carry on a conversation without embarrassing herself.

“While we’re on the subject,” she said, changing the subject completely, “where did you get those lanterns on the bookshelf? What are they? I’ve never seen anything like them before. Do the Gerudo make them?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Ganondorf replied as he sat down beside her. “But the truth is that we simply refurbish them. The ruins in the desert are filled with things like this, and we’re only just now excavating some of the more accessible sites and figuring out how to get these artifacts to work. But excavation is dangerous and progress is slow, and in the meantime we have other things to worry about. Nothing that’s come out of this research has been profitable, so it’s not something we devote our resources to. So there these archaeological sites sit, just as undisturbed as they’ve been for centuries, I’d imagine.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Zelda said, genuinely intrigued. “I should come visit sometime.”

Ganondorf stared at her in disbelief. “Perhaps you understand why you wouldn’t be welcome.”

Zelda smiled and met his eyes. “Then welcome me.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Ganondorf held her gaze, but he said nothing further, and the humor had faded from his face. He was a stranger in this castle, and Zelda was just now realizing that he had probably expected to meet his death here. In fact, now that she thought back on their conversation in the inner courtyard garden, it struck her that he thought his death would more than likely come at her hands. As long as he remained in Hyrule, she held the power in their relationship. In truth, between their visions of the past and what had already occurred during their own lives, there was no reason for him to be friendly to her. She herself could have been a much more gracious host in the weeks that he’d been here, and it was only now that she had the opportunity to speak to him in private like this. She swallowed her pride and resolved to be kind. There had already been enough misunderstandings, but for the time being it was her responsibility to ease the tension between them.

“Are your quarters in your own castle filled with flowers as well?” she asked, trying to draw him out.

“No,” he answered bluntly. The was a strained moment of silence, and she couldn’t think of anything to say to fill it. She tried to take another sip of tea, but her glass was empty. Ganondorf gave a gentle smile at the awkwardness and took the cup from her.

“We have greenhouses filled with flowers, of course, but we maintain them for medicinal purposes,” he said as he refilled her glass from the carafe. “No one would use flowers just to make a room look pretty. But here in your castle, before they’re more than a day old, you just…” He paused, apparently searching for the right words, but then shrugged in resignation. “But you just throw them out.”

“So you rescue them, and you keep them here just because you like them?”

As Zelda saw a faint blush creep up Ganondorf’s cheeks, she realized that was exactly what he did. He loved flowers; he always had. It made her happy to think that she knew these things about him: that he loved flowers, that he liked sweet things, what he had been like as a child, the way he could never pronounce certain words correctly, how he put books up and back down without any regard for their order. At the moment, all of these tiny bits of knowledge about him seemed even more meaningful than the fact that he could use magic or that both of their mothers had believed him to be cursed.

“Herbs are useful in potion brewing,” Ganondorf remarked while he poured himself a glass of the cold tea. As he drank, Zelda noticed that he swallowed the mint leaves at the top. She tried it herself as he continued speaking. “It’s something the Sheikah and the Gerudo have in common, our herbal lore. Gerudo legends hold that the Sheikah learned their magic and technology from us, but who can say? Sheikah symbols have been found in our ruins, so we may even have been the same tribe, once. We have entire walls of scrolls in the palace library, so many that it would take a lifetime to read even half of them. The truth might be written in one of them, but just like the ruins in the desert, we have other things to worry about.”

“Speaking of legends,” Zelda interrupted him, “Link may be loyal to my father, but I think he may have tried to give me a message.”

“How so?” Ganondorf asked, openly curious.

Zelda was surprised by the lack of bitterness in his tone, which was completely at odds with the anger she had seen him express earlier. “You don’t really hate him, do you?” she asked.

“No. I don’t hate him. I even wished we could be friends, years ago. He may have already told you this, but he spent some time with the Gerudo, and he was the only other boy in the palace. Nabooru found him wandering in the desert and took him in, and she secured employment for him as some sort of courier. I always wanted to find an excuse to talk with him, but I wasn’t…”

Zelda smiled, remembering what Ganondorf was like when he was younger. “You didn’t strike me as the sort of kid who made friends easily.”

Ganondorf returned her smile. “You could certainly say that.”

“So,” she continued, “while we were talking, mainly about how dangerous you might be, Link played a song for me. He played it on a Gerudo guitar, but it didn’t sound like any Gerudo music I’ve ever heard. He played the refrain more than once. It was like he was playing it for my benefit, so that I would remember it. If he knows about the Master Sword, I wonder if he doesn’t maybe have some understanding of how the ocarina works…”

“So why don’t you try playing it? Did you bring the ocarina with you?” he asked, motioning toward her satchel, which she had kept close to her side.

“I do want to try to play it, but… Is that okay with you?” she asked, thinking of the vertigo and confusion she experienced during her visions. “Is it uncomfortable for you, to do this?”

“It is,” Ganondorf answered honestly. “But I want to see it anyway.”

“Okay.” Zelda exhaled slowly and took out the ocarina. With Ganondorf watching her so closely, she felt awkward, but as soon as she put her lips to the mouthpiece Link’s melody came to her naturally. The song was rousing and heroic, and even though she missed a few notes at the beginning she found the tune quickly. She was almost enjoying herself when she began to feel the familiar sense of displacement in the pit of her stomach, but she closed her eyes and continued playing until she could no longer feel the ocarina under her fingers or hear its music in her ears.

When she opened her eyes everything was bright, and she was flying. Or, no – not quite flying. She was in the sky, but she had no sense of her own body. It was as if she were the sky itself, a brilliantly blue sky, and she was so high up that she could look down on the clouds. One in particular caught her attention, a towering cumulonimbus ringed by eerie lenticular swirls. When she focused her gaze she realized that she could see anything she wanted in sharp detail, and it didn’t take her long to realize that there were two distinct figures standing at the top of the cloud formation. One of them was Link. He was wearing a strange green tunic sewn from coarse fabric, and a long matching cap that flapped behind his ears, but he was undoubtedly Link. He held a long blade of shining steel in his left hand. He was pointing the sword at his opponent, but what he was facing was entirely beyond Zelda’s comprehension. It was like a blur of pure darkness that trailed a mantle of flame behind it, and she could almost make it out, but –

 _Spare that pitiful creature from your sight_ , a voice spoke in her mind, except it wasn’t a “voice,” exactly, but a magnificent chorus of song. It lifted Zelda’s spirit, and she felt as if she were suddenly borne aloft on a phalanx of wings, each pinion quivering in harmony. The sensation of flight and the accompanying feeling of being flooded by power that promised an infinite potential flooded her heart with light, and the experience would have taken her breath away if her breath weren’t the very wind itself.

 _May the goddess grant me wisdom_ , Zelda prayed, the words echoing through her heart more earnestly than they ever had before.

Her silent prayer was met with laughter, a tintinnabulation of joy that was radiant in its purity.

 _You are the wisdom you seek_ , the voice sounded again in her mind. _But it is a balance, a sweep and a rise, a creation and a reshaping, the dance of youth and age, the triumph of experience and the renewal of innocence. Look, and understand._

Zelda’s gaze was swept through the clouds, skimming along the white fluffy tops of the altostratus dusting the sky, and then she could see a city, a beautiful city of stone and marble and trees and waterfalls, all perched on a series of islands floating serenely in the aether. The buildings soared over the tops of the trees even as roots dangled from the bottom layer of soil, and the entire ecosystem was teeming with vibrant life; Zelda could feel its energy vibrating in every particle of her being.

 _How_ , she asked herself, but she already knew. This was divine magic. What Ganondorf had learned from his books and scrolls was nothing more than a tiny remnant of this vast force. How impressed she had been with him, but he had merely scooped a thimbleful of water from an endless ocean. What she was seeing now was the magic the had created this world, it had to be.

Again laughter pealed like bells through the heavens. _These are nothing more than the ruins that formed the cradle of your birth_ , the voice sang. _Let me show you the true magic – let me show you Hyrule!_

The clouds began to race around her, and the stars danced across the sky, streaming light in their wake. Zelda allowed the passage of time to flow through her, and it felt incredible. She felt herself on the verge of crying out in pleasure, so she closed her eyes until the sensation had abated. When she opened them again, the sight that greeted her was nothing less than pure glory.

She was looking at Hyrule, she knew this as surely as she knew her own name, but it was a Hyrule beyond her wildest fantasies. Towers blazing with light stretched to the sky, and wide roads cut across the land like rivers. These monuments erected by Hylian hands were interspersed with bodies of water so clear it reflected the azure of the sky and stretches of green so lush and deep it was like a hymn offered by the very earth itself. The sight was so vast and rich that Zelda could hardly take it all in, and she knew it was hers. The city and the floating islands and even the sky itself – it was all hers, and it was all good, and it was all just, and it was all as it should be.

Zelda’s heart was once again filled with an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment, but something was wrong. Everything was bright and beautiful, so much so that it was difficult to concentrate. She resisted the pull of this expansive sense of enlightenment; she had to, if she wanted to think for herself.

She struggled to form words in her mind, but slowly she was able to piece her seeds of doubt into a solid sense of purpose. _If I truly am a descendant of the goddess Hylia_ , she thought, _then why am I mortal? If Hyrule was meant to be a shining beacon of civilization, then what happened to it? How did it fall?_

There was no response, so she concentrated the force of her will into a silent scream. _Show me the battle!_ she commanded whoever or whatever was guiding her. Even if she were speaking directly to the goddess Hylia herself, she still had a right to know her heritage. _Show me what the hero had to fight with that sword!_

There was a sound like a soft sigh, and the most delicate and gentle feeling of regret passed through her. In an instant, the city below her was engulfed in flames. Time turned back on itself and flowed forward once again, and the proud towers fell as the roads were blasted away. The green became brown, and the water became mud. In the sky the some of the floating islands were swept violently away as if on the back of a great atmospheric wave, while the ones that remained crumbled away, falling bit by bit below the clouds until only a few small hovels and meager fields remained on a scattering of mossy rocks only barely holding themselves aloft. And then her gaze shifted once again to Link, who no longer stood opposite an amorphous challenger but danced in a succession of blows with a black scaled monster that had only the vaguest resemblance to a man. It spit fire and fury, but its movements were oddly lacking in coordination, as if it had forgotten how to move and was only manipulating its body through brute force. Link’s sword – it must be the Master Sword – was straight and shining and pure, while the blade the monster clutched in one of its gigantic clawed fists was horribly twisted. Link was the perfect embodiment of skill and grace, and Zelda felt sorry for the pitiful thing he struck, over and over again as each of his hits landed with deadly perfect accuracy.

But what were they fighting about, and why? Zelda looked even further down, and she saw that the column of clouds was rising from a pit in the earth. She narrowed her focus, and then she could see, at the very bottom of the pit, a girl in a dirty white dress lying inert on a stone tablet riddled with cracks and blotched with bloodstains that were still wet. The girl’s face was contorted in anguish, but Zelda still recognized herself immediately. A second later, she understood why she was in pain – her spirit was being leached by the monster on the clouds, and she was resisting it with all her might.

The scope of her vision widened, and she saw that this girl on a stone lay at the center of Hyrule, which was nothing more than miles and miles of ruins and scorched earth. The mountains spewed lava, and the sea had become a barren desert. Zelda suddenly understood what had happened, and how.

Zelda lifted her gaze again to the battle, and she examined the monster’s face closely. Despite the jutting fangs and the sharp protruding scales and the jets of flame it expelled, the curve of its nose and the angle of his jaw and the gold of his eyes were intimately familiar to her.

 _Curse you_ , she prayed, her words echoing through the sky. _May your fury forever be futile. May you find no allies on this earth, and may you forever walk alone in your misery. May your struggle only bring you pain, and may you never be anything more than raging and blind._

Time slowed, and the edges of the world blurred as the demon turned its head away from Link and fixed its glowing eyes directly on her. It saw her and then, with its fearsome mouth, it smiled.

 _Then let it be so_ , it said, its sonorous voice beautiful beyond all reason. _May this battle be yours as well, and may it continue until not a single memory is left of your kingdom. Until the sky falls, and until the earth rises to meet it, my hatred will follow your descendants. This is the fate you have chosen, goddess. May the curse you have lain become your legend._

It hated her, of that she could be sure, but there was a strange look of longing in its gaze before it bowed its head and closed its eyes completely. Time resumed its normal flow, and in that instant Link leapt into the air and brought the Master Sword squarely down on the creature’s head. As it fell to its knees, Zelda understood that it had allowed itself to be defeated. It knew it could not win this fight, but it had decided to lose it on its own terms.

The monster seemed to be saying something to Link, but Zelda could no longer hear its words. The wind was rushing in her ears, and the light was fading from the sky. She felt her spirit being pulled down, back down into her body on the stone altar, and the last thing she saw was the golden eyes of the demon as it trembled and shook in agony.

Everything went black, and when Zelda returned to herself she found Ganondorf staring at her, his eyes burning with an unfathomable rage.

She didn’t understand why he was looking at her like that, but she wasn’t sure she understood anything at this point. “Did you… Did you see that?” she asked, desperately trying to reestablish her foothold in reality as she processed what she’d just experienced. “I don’t… What happened?”

“You’re asking me if I saw that idiot child murder the guardian of this land?” Ganondorf asked her, his voice cold and dry. “You’re asking me what happened? You saw it as clearly as I did, you heard their words. Your goddess destroyed Hyrule to spite the one force on this earth that could keep her power in check, and then she doomed its people to eternal war. Your ancestors did this, Zelda – _you_ did this. Hyrule will burn, and you will watch it, knowing that its people will turn to their sacred princess in their weakness and despair. All this death, all this decay – this is the glory of your throne, this is your legacy.”


End file.
